The Descent
by D4RKR4VEN
Summary: Sequel to 'The Spiralling', a sequel to the Kick-Ass movie with elements of the comic taken in. After Big Daddy died, Mindy was driven mad, subdued by Dave, and locked away in an Institute after killing all who she deemed responsible but Dave. Will she recover? What will happen next to a New York without her nor the Motherfucker? Elements of the Kick-Ass 2 movie will be taken in.
1. (The Descent Update Log)

**The Descent**

**Update Log**

Hi guys! Finally, some non-diegetic words in this novel! Except that I'm not even in the story, fortunately. This chapter is special, as it is not an ordinary chapter. In this chapter, whatever changes made to the fanfiction will be reflected. This means that whenever a new chapter is uploaded, it will be reflected here, and most importantly, whenever a chapter has been changed in some way, it will be reflected here. This is to inform my readers of those changes so that they could go back to it, and not wonder why the story is unfolding with a seemingly huge number of plot holes everywhere. Anyway, without further ado...

…

23rd August 2013: The Descent debuts with chapter 1. Chapter 1 updated with draft 2 on the same day.

24th August 2013: Chapter 2 uploaded.

25th August 2013: Chapter 2 updated with draft 2. Chapter 3 makes its appearance.

26th August 2013: Chapter 4 uploaded and updated with draft 2 on the same day. It's a habit of mine to spot for even more problems and errors after I've uploaded.

28th August 2013: Chapter 5 uploaded.

30th August 2013: Chapter 6 uploaded.

31st August 2013: Chapter 6 has been updated with draft 2.

1st September 2013: Chapter 7 up. Updated with draft 2 on the same day.

3rd September 2013: Chapter 8 up.

5th September 2013: Chapter 9 up.

6th September 2013: Chapter 10 up. Yep, the good old days. I was on fire back then!

8th September 2013: Chapter 11 up.

11th September 2013: Chapter 12 up.

14th September 2013: Chapter 12 updated with draft 2. First time I've updated a chapter this late. Won't be the last. Chapter 13 appears on the same day with a whopping 7,520 words. I thought I could go no further than that.

16th September 2013: The first big change made to previously written chapters. Chapter 5, 10 and 12 has been updated with draft 2, 2 and 3 respectively in order to make the dates of Mindy's diary accurate to real world dates. It was an honest mistake.

18th September 2013: Chapter 14 uploaded and updated with draft 2 on the same day.

21st September 2013: Chapter 15 up.

23rd September 2013: Chapter 16 up. I was still going at a very fast pace then. Seems unbelievable now (now as in 23rd October 2013)

25th September 2013: Chapter 17 up.

28th September 2013: Chapter 18 up.

30th September 2013: Chapter 19 up.

4th October 2013: Chapter 20 uploaded and updated with draft 2 on the same day. The beginning of me slowing down.

5th October 2013: Chapter 21 up. I believe I was celebrating a new month with The Descent by writing another chapter immediately after the next.

11th October 2013: Chapter 22 up. Progress grinding to a slow speed.

21st October 2013: Chapter 23 up. Just when I thought things couldn't be slower.

23rd October 2013: Chapter 23 updated with draft 2. From here onwards, I will also include explicit details on what is being changed. In this case, I added a 215 words paragraph just after the bit when Mindy finishes her pistol marksmanship exercise _frustrated_. I won't spoil it for you guys about what it is. This Update Log is uploaded, after much procrastination.

26th October 2013: Chapter 23 updated with draft 3. Dave's dad no longer *SPOILER AHEAD* learns about Mindy regaining much of her memory of her past life. Also, Chapter 21 updated with draft 2. Both chapters have a similar error to amend – two different persons' dialogue have been accidentally put into the same paragraph, creating difficulties for some readers. I'd like to thank Koryandrs for pointing this out and reminding me, because I've been procrastinating making the correction since I knew about this since chapter 21.

28th October 2013: Chapter 24 released.

29th October 2013: Chapter 24 updated with Draft 2. I strongly urge everyone who'd read Chapter 24 Draft 1 to reread the chapter, as every single paragraph has been altered in one way or another, some only in terms of grammar, while others even more, sometimes with entire sentences taken away or put in. There might be small little things that had been changed, added or taken away, and they might affect the whole experience – hence, I recommend rereading the chapter, and it's not because I want more hits, don't worry about it! :D

3rd November 2013: Chapter 25 uploaded. First chapter under the flag of NaNoWriMo.

8th November 2013: Chapter 26 done and uploaded. This is the second chapter to be done for NaNoWriMo.


	2. Picture of a Pink Unicorn

**The Descent**

**Chapter 1: Picture of a Pink Unicorn**

There's always this burning question I asked, every time I flipped through a comic book, 'what's exactly going through the mind of a superhero when the shit hits the fan'? What exactly happens to Bruce Wayne when his parents were killed? Or how about when Rachel was blown up? Sure, we'd get the words and carefully drawn sad face off a page, or a good Bale performance, but what were they really thinking? Feeling?

After almost two decades, I guess my questions were finally answered. The biggest part about being a superhero, as it turns out, wasn't the flashy weapons, or the team-ups, or the cool factors. It was all in the head, how much pain you could take inside and keep going. It's all the difference between Batman and Two-Face, and I found that out the hard way.

**8 months ago…**

"Kill me! KILL ME, cunts! Kill me!" A rather young, but foul-mouthed voice screamed, her voice cracking from dryness, losing even more innocence than it already did, if that was even possible anymore. On the television screen, a girl not even 12 years of age was, with great difficulty, being stuffed into a straitjacket by four burly men, the best in their fields. Yet, they were having trouble, as the kid was continually tearing herself away from the straitjacket just as they were about to secure it.

As they finally pulled a strap over her flat, prepubescent chest and locked it, she delivered a precise kick at one of the orderlies, right in the throat. He stumbled back, his eyes wider than normally thought possible, as he struggled to breathe. Leaning on a wall, he slid down, fell unconscious, "I'll fuck you up! All of you! Fucking fuck all of you!" She was screaming between threats, panting like an athlete on shots.

Another strap came in place, and then another. What looked like the devil's daughter was finally in control. Another of the orderlies took out a syringe, plunged it into a bottle containing a clear fluid, and sucked it all out. After knocking it and testing the plunger, he leaned in, near the girl's head, so that he could find a vein on her neck.

Despite his size and muscles, he was near-sighted, and preferred to be safe, which was when a surprise head-butt knocked him back. The girl was struggling against her restraints, growling and screaming like a possessed case, but another orderly took over, and stabbed the syringe in her neck, injecting the clear fluid. The girl screamed, and her high-pitched voice actually had the orderlies covering their ears.

I could still hear the screams, even after the television in Doctor Paul's office was turned off. Couldn't help but to lean forward, cover my eyes. I could still see her contorted face as she was trying to get out, trying to kill everyone and get even with me. The darkness my hands gave me didn't help. Instead, it made the scene even clearer. It was even worse than the scenes from The Exorcists. This was real, that one wasn't, "Oh God… Jesus, no." I couldn't help but to let a few tears crawl – it certainly wasn't superman from a comic book page we're talking about, it was the same girl who saved my life back at D'Amico's, the same girl who started feeling like a sister after that.

She was even worse than a shadow of her former self. From the video recording, I could see her pallid face, yellowish in some parts, her hair messy. I saw the whitish slits on her arms, not exactly scars, but they will remain there for years to come, and even longer in her mind, in all of ours'. She wasn't herself. She looked so thin and frail, yet she was somehow still able to fight off men five times her size. It was frightening to me even when it shouldn't have been.

"Is there anything else I could do? To help?" I was swallowing saliva like cups of water, I wasn't sure what else to say, what else to do. It was no longer my arena. It wasn't about crimefighting any longer, not that I was that good to begin with. For months, I had been filling out questionaires, writing reports the size of essays, as long as I could possibly make them. It was a good way to make me feel helpless and worthless, after all, what I knew about her case made it worse. I made it worse, I started it all, "And please… Something more than papers, anything."

My voice was quivering, I couldn't help it. I hated it, I wanted to be strong for her, but I couldn't. It was that hard I suppose – Well, that's another level of badassness for those superheroes I've been reading. An epiphany at the wrong time.

"Yeah, well, okay." Dr. Paul was flipping through his clipboards. I could tell that he, too, was a little taxed. The beads of sweat on his forehead, and his shivering fingers were all tell-tale signs that he had met his match. It didn't help my own confidence, "She's been a little quiet for the past couple days. She was usually swearing and beating people up. There's one thing you could do. Please, come with me."

The psychiatrist led me out of his office, through white, spotless corridors that managed to irk me. Hey, the cleaner it is, the more shitty the place actually is, but as far as asylums go, it wasn't something that could run me out. I was used to it since the beginning, I had to be, for her, "I believe a little bit of positive stimuli could be beneficial to her mentally. I believe you are the positive stimuli. After all, if your reports hold true, you are what stopped her where half the police force and mafia didn't."

We went through the low security zone, and like any movies about asylums, and definitely not Arkham Asylum, there were patients milling about, playing card games, reading, watching televisions or zoning out, supervised by orderlies. I was hoping to see her there, but none of the patients were even remotely her size.

Instead, we ended up in the maximum security area, right past the high security zone, where the worst cases were held. There were a lot of orderlies, four in a checkpoint, a few others standing by these huge steel doors. There were even a few security guards present, and they weren't just packing tasers or batons like the orderlies.

"Hey Paul." One of the guards greeted my psychiatrist as they let us through. Inside, we were flanked by four orderlies and a guard. Even then, I couldn't help but still feel unsafe. I was trying hard to beat out that fear like fire. I owed it to her. Passing by doors, I couldn't help but to look in, hoping to see her in one of them. All I saw were men or women, all mumbling crazy things, or sitting still, too still. One of them was frantically writing giant letters on pieces of paper that I didn't feel like reading.

"Here we are. Indeed." The doctor said as he nodded to the guard escorting us. The four orderlies got ready. I could see sweat everywhere, just pouring. I tried hard not to, "I want you to talk to her, try to get her to communicate. Okay? Good. Alright, outstanding."

I looked in, but I didn't want to see. Instead, I forced my eyes close, drew back. I wanted to wait, hope against hope for any good surprises. The guard was still fumbling around with his keys, and my heart was thumping, hoping that she would remain docile even as I entered the cell. It took a while as I waited in the rather stereotypically dark corridor, but the guard managed to get the heavy steel door into her room to open with a very loud series of clicks. It felt like facing some final boss, for some reason. I entered the room, which was actually quite spacious, followed by everyone else. There were seven of us.

Inside was her, sitting on the floor, wearing a kid-sized patient's gown, facing away from me, facing a wall. She was working on something with soft-looking crayons, I couldn't see what. The Doctor nodded to me as he held his clipboard up, ready to jot down notes. I took a step. Another. Trying to be cautious. Took a deep breath, and released. I came closer, trying to be as casual as possible.

"Mindy?" I whispered, trying to be as little as possible, to be her size. I figured that it was somehow the tactful way, even knowing full well how she was like even before she even tried to kill me. She seemed far more vulnerable, far smaller, "It's me, Dave…" She continued drawing away with her crayons. Looking at the crayon case, I noticed that the red one was missing. It was as if she didn't notice me.

"Mindy, hey…" I whispered more, put a hand on her shoulder. I could hear feet shuffling back as everyone else were doing the smart thing. After another moment of colouring with crayons, she finally turned around. At least I got to see her face clearly. It was thin, like nothing I remembered. I could see her cheekbones, rounded and young. At first, I was a little taken aback, but as I noticed she wasn't regarding me with the look of out-of-place hatred in her child's eyes, I could feel a little warmth inside – things might work itself out after all.

"Do you like my drawing?" Mindy said mildly, her voice weak. I took in every word. In her shivering hand, she held up a drawing block, A3 sized. There was a drawing of a unicorn, the kind you'd find lining a toy store or even Youtube. It was better drawn than most – could be the byproduct of her past training with Big Daddy, or maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe she's just older.

The unicorn itself was pink and white in colour. There was a forest in the background, with oddly shaped trees green and yellow in colour and the ground, dirty brown. The trees had balloon-like bulges in the middle, and their branches were all the same, four facing diagonally upwards and outward. Funnily enough, the base of the tree trunks were thinner than the top. The sky was blue with white fluffy clouds.

"It's beautiful." I couldn't help but to smile. I couldn't help but to smile wide. It felt like a magical moment, one that will start us off well after all. Then I saw amongst the green and blue of the background, the unicorn's horn wasn't coloured, "Oh, you missed that spot, Mindy." She smiled back, and went back to hiding her paper and getting to work colouring. When she was done, she held the picture up again.

"Beauti-" She was holding it wrong, upside down. Somehow, the picture she was drawing had changed. The unicorn's smiley face was turned into a frown. The trees in the background weren't trees anymore, but somehow resembled a lot of Kick-Asses with a noose around the neck – the yellow did seem out of place. She coloured the unicorn's horn red.

Immediately, she lunged at me, managed to knock me over and get on top of me, trying to stab me in the eye with her red crayon, which she had sharpened from drawing. Before I know it, I was getting the Demoness treatment again, and boy did I took it well as things descent into violence. Wheezing from fear and shock, my hands locked on her wrists, I was trying to get the red crayon as far away from my eyes as possible. She was weaker than her former self, and yet she was winning.

And just when I thought the shock was over and done with, she sunk her teeth into my shoulder. I was wearing a jacket over T-shirt, and yet I could feel her teeth underneath. As if knowing what will happen, the orderlies came forward, trying to get her off me. While I was crying my lungs out, she was latched onto my shoulder like a rabid dog. Again, it took four orderlies, PLUS a guard and psychiatrist to wrench her off, and before they could hold her down, her sharpened red crayon had found its way into an orderly's right eye. The only thing I could only be glad about was that I wasn't the one who needed a pirate patch.

The last thing I saw was one of the orderlies plunging another syringe into her, this time into her arm, as the guard took me away. He had to drag me, as I was screaming for Mindy, crying. My legs felt like superman's after a blast of Lex's Kryptonite. That was the last time I saw her eight months ago, and heard of her, getting strapped into bed as she was yelling for me to die. Sure, Doctor Paul did contact me once in a while, gave me the usual bad news, and even that stopped after a while. Mindy was still Demoness, that eight months ago.

If only that was the only bad thing going on. A few months before this, Mindy's adoptive father, Sergeant Marcus Williams of the New York Police Department, died of complications. He survived getting peppered by Demoness' bullets, he survived surgery, only to lapse into coma and quietly slip away. No heroic speeches, no last hugs and kisses. Another stab by reality. Big Daddy had a chance to talk to Mindy, but no, not Marcus.

Even if Mindy got out of Paul's asylum someday, what would I tell her? That she killed her own dad? It was a question I asked myself every day, every morning and every time before I go to bed. Sure, Peter Parker did lose Uncle Ben, but at least he wasn't the thug who pulled the trigger. I bet he'd completely lose his shit and mind if he found out he was the one who shot Uncle Ben to death all along. Thankfully, telling Mindy about Bid Daddy and Marcus wasn't something I had to do, at least not in the next eight months or so.

**Present…**

"So bloody weak. So full of shit." A juvenile but hateful voice spat. I didn't know who it was, I couldn't see, "No surprise you were stabbed and knocked down by a car."

"Fuck you!" Somehow, I knew the lines, like reading off a high school play script. It came out of my mouth without my control.

"No surprise your 'friends' suffered from your fuck-ups." The voice continued, unfazed by profanity – it was profanity incarnate itself.

"Once a loser, always a loser." I could see an figure-8 mask and a set of steel teeth coming in closer, floating towards me. The teeth were moving, talking, "Just an idiot in a giant, blue condom."

"Let me end your suffering..." Slowly, the rest of Demoness came into shape, her albino features, white as snow, irises red as blood, came into being. She was in a black and silver costume, had a Katana, aimed downwards at me. And she brought it down upon me, the blade sliding past my Kevlar vest – I was wearing one? Into my chest and through my heart, each pump of blood harder and more painful with the red hot iron coming through.

Pain reverberated throughout my body as I stared into her mouth, smiling, smiling hard like a kid's mouth during her birthday party, except this wasn't a birthday party. My heart continued to beat in defiance, each pump hurting more than the next, sounding more and more like an alarm ringing each time – Ringing towards what?

It got louder, and louder, my heart in pain. Instinctually, I reached out with my hand… And muted an alarm clock. My bed creaked with my body. It was a nightmare I was used to. In the beginning, I was bolting up from bed just like in the movies, but these days, it was just like in _I Am Legend_.

But there was still ringing, and it sounded different from an alarm clock. Vibrations to the tune of a Batman theme song, which I couldn't remember the generation of as I was still fighting off grogginess. It took me a few seconds to figure out that it was the phone on my desk. Brushing past my literature textbooks and comics, I got up, just barely, feeling a little lousy as it was Monday. After stopping my night life as Kick-Ass, the Monday blues'd become a reality once again, creeping back, reminding me that I'd gone from hero to zero once again. It was still something I'd yet get used to.

"Uhh…." I was still groggy, pinching my nose, almost regretting the previous night spent stoning behind my television, watching reruns of Lost, trying to put a cover over the past, distract myself, forcing myself to forget that I was ever a man in a green condom, "Hello?"

"Hello, hi, good morning." A somewhat familiar voice boomed through my cellphone, on the highest volume. As I was still stuck on trying to remember which generation's Batman theme song was on my cellphone, I couldn't figure out who it was at the moment, "This is Doctor Paul, head psychiatrist of the Jameson Psychiatry Institute." The name woke me up just about, there and then.

"Yeah, Dave Lizewski!" I shouted into the phone, unable to contain the strange mixture of excitement and anxiety within me, of hope and fear fighting one another "Is this about…"

"**Yes, it is."**


	3. Hit-Girl Returns

**The Descent**

**Chapter 2: Hit-Girl Returns**

Do you remember that Superman movie back in the day? The one in which Superman returns? This was what it felt like, when the call came in from Dr. Paul about Mindy. Funny, how I'm so used to calling her Mindy now, instead of Hit-Girl, but I guess the latter's just too full of bad memories. Regardless, this was the next big blockbuster of my life: Hit-Girl Returns.

"Could you come over to the institute at, say, 11?" Dr. Paul said. Even through the phone, through his professional disinterested façade, I could tell that he, too, had a boy inside who was beaming with joy, who can't wait to show his achievement to mom and dad. I knew it was in me, and the feeling was even better than getting a Marvel anthology for Christmas. All these months as Mindy rotted in the Jameson Psychiatry Institute, I was down and out, dead. I felt alive again.

"A.m., right?" I beamed like a disco ball, I could barely think, but the good doctor's laughter told me he understood, and he replied yes, "Hell yeah! I'll even be earlier than that!"

Cue the phone getting put down, and I was jumping with joy. It was a huge shame that I never knew how to do a backflip or a cartwheel, because it felt like the moment. I could have backflipped across the room if I knew how, but instead, I had to knock my knee into my desk. In light of Mindy's recovery though, even THAT felt good. I didn't even mind missing school for the day, which I had been burying myself in ever since the fiasco at the D'Amico tower. Todd and Marty wouldn't mind and the teachers and principal wouldn't care – my workaholic attitude for most of the year had given me enough aces to get excused.

Flipping open my wardrobe, I was a kid on his birthday, flipping through my selections to pick out the best outfit. Denim jeans, a shirt and… A jacket. I took off the brownish jacket, looked at it. It was an old possession that I've had for a few years. There was simply no reason to toss it out, especially after my last growth spurt was over. I eyed its right shoulder. Mindy's bite mark was still there – Scuffs and a bit of tear. Would she mind? After a bit, I smiled anyway – Might as well, we might even laugh it off.

After getting on my socks, I was sliding down the stairs, absolutely floating into the kitchen. It felt like being Green Lantern for once. Even my dad was surprised when I hummed a random song out while I poured some milk into a bowl, followed by cereal.

"Hey pal, what's the good news? New girlfriend?" My dad caught on, and he was positively glowing, his grey hair silver. I might have infected him with my happy of the spiderman-ray kind.

"Even better!" I couldn't help but to exclaim like a girl getting her first fur coat, but I didn't care, "Remember that girl I told you about?"

"The one you cried over for months?" Dad guessed. Well, he was right. I did cry my heart out for the first 6 months or so, not just for Mindy, but for my pathetic self. After-all, Demoness' words stuck, and the worst thing of all was that she was right, and then there was the comic-book twist – since Demoness' was Mindy's other personality created by what Doctor Paul termed as Dissociative Identity Disorder made worst by Depression, Psychosis, a ruined childhood and insurmountable tragedies, it meant that Hit-Girl, or Mindy, was also saying it, "Mindy was it? Hit-Girl? That Batwoman-type you've been teaming up with back then?"

"Y-yeah." For a while, I could feel it seeping out of me, upon remembering everything that went wrong back then. Even to this day, it had that kind of power. It was the Dracula of Draculas I had to contend with every single day, and it wasn't the traditional kind of Dracula, but the kind with all the modern reinterpretations and super CGI effects, "That's her. You don't mind, right?"

"Wait… Are you..?" My father'd stopped eating, and that was big news in our family vocabulary. I looked at him wide-eyed, a little confused at what he's driving at. It had the effect of driving away the memories for a bit.

"What..? Dad?" I replied stupidly, not getting it at all. What was he driving at? He knew about my superhero alter-ego, so that can't be it. He knew about Mindy and HER alter-ego as Hit-Girl and the DID resulting in Demoness…

"Dave, I understand everything you've been going through. You've been friends with her for almost 2 years now, fighting together, watching each other's backs, going through what people twice your age could only dream of… together." My dad's monologue started. He's been doing that quite a bit lately, especially when I'd hit rock bottom with my Mindy anxiety back then, and back then I appreciated it, but now, "It's only natural that you'd… You know, even if she's almost half your age. I'm your dad, it's really fine to talk about it…" Then, it clicked all of a sudden.

"Oh! What? Dad, no." I nearly spat back out my first bite of cereal, but I swallowed without chewing all the way instead, nearly choking or vomiting, "Don't even go there. We've talked about this a few times. She's like a sister to me." Despite what I said, he still looked worried, unconvinced, "Dad! I'm not a paedophile!"

For some reason, a smile started curling up his face, his seriousness fading away like the moon in the morning. I was thoroughly confused, especially more so when he started chuckling, then laughing, "Dad! No! Don't go Joker on me!" At this, I was just as serious as he was. After Mindy, I was always worried that everyone around me would go nuts. If I had the money to do it, I'd check myself out for PTSD at the nearest psychiatric hospital.

"Just kidding, buddy!" Dad managed to squeeze out as he was absolutely laughing out loud. He had to push himself away his bowl of cereal in case he knock it over. He looked like he was just a step away from rolling on the ground. I could only feel relieved at this – it was surprisingly new, my dad developing a healthy sense of humour. I had to wonder myself, what allowed him to develop that sense of humour? Eventually, however, I was laughing with him – it really was funny after all, in retrospect. After calming down, he continued, "See, Dave? Thing's aren't that bad in the end. You know what I'm trying to tell you, right?"

"That… I'm not a paedophile?" After getting a suckerpunch-joke, I was getting thrown off a bit, and confused at what he was trying to say.

"Well, other than that," I couldn't tell whether he was joking this time, but from his post-joke chuckle, it was obvious he was stretching it a bit. Don't get me wrong though, it was still funny in retrospect, "I'm fine with it, adopting her. The Lizewski family could use another kid."

"You know, your mom and I wanted more than you… You know?" He was, very quickly, looking down, solemn. At first, I expected tears from him, but it didn't come out. As for me, I understood a long time ago that life goes on regardless, although admittedly, her death happening just a few years back helped, for some reason. Was it because I was tougher? Or was I just desensitized enough not to be slitting wrists by living in a city – that rationalisation has had me confused for years myself, "Funny. We've always wanted a daughter. Thought you could use one, you know?"

I kept silent. The day had only just begun, and already, it felt like the climax of Batman Begins. It was evident that he was still a little upset over my mother, at what was, what is, and what could have been. Even after all these years, and now, I've gotten along even better with him, and with Mindy going on for the past year, tragedy was no longer just confined in a book by Shakespeare or Jerry Siegel any longer.

"I'm so proud of you, Dave. You've grown so, so much, fighting crime, and now... There's Mindy." Dad continued. He was still not touching his cereal, but at his arms were on the table, "I just wish it wasn't as tough as it was."

"An adopted daughter for me and an adopted sister for you. Who would've thought?" Dad continued to ramble on. A burning question, in the meantime, occurred to me.

"Dad, I know you have a shift coming up, but do you want to take it off and meet her?" I asked my burning question. I, on the other hand, had no idea what was best.

"Nah, you pick her up today. I figured you deserve some time alone with her." He continued. I still couldn't help but to read his me-as-a-paedophile joke into that for some reason, "Besides," He continued as he was standing up. He'd been rapidly shoving cereal into his mouth between words that he was nearly done, but he still could not finish, "I've got to work hard now that I have a new baby girl to take care of."

At first glance, anyone would think that he took it begrudgingly, but he wasn't. Not even a tiny bit, not a chance. He was smiling, full of energy. Before this, I thought I'd done him in where taking care of kids were concerned, but it turns out he still had the strength to carry on. The grey hair on his scalp don't mean shit at all. With that, he marched off animatedly towards the front door, but before he leave, he continued on, just when I thought it couldn't get any more awesome, "I'll set aside some money, make a room for her. I bet she's the pink-and-purple type."

**Later…**

The cab I was in pulled over before the Institute. I paid the taxi driver his due, and then even more as a tip, and because I was crazy with joy and excitement, with a little bit of anxiety thrown in. Sure, he called me crazy, but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except for Mindy walking through the gates of Jameson.

My smile was pretty much a permanent establishment on my face as I walked through reception, skipped over to Doctor Paul's office, greeting every single doctor, orderly and patient I come across, including the grouchy orderly with a pirate patch on his right eye. Knocking on Paul's office door with a comical pattern, I opened it and entered. I could hardly wait to hear it from him.

Coming into his office, I noticed that it didn't change one bit. Heavy wooden furniture, red carpets and various sorts of instruments lined a counter. Bookshelves behind him, and his certificates, like trophies, hung on the right side wall, displayed proudly. He didn't change much either. Doctor Paul was still in his 50s, sporting a full head of grey hair, and is actually quite muscular due to the same hobby he had with Aldan, or Grandmaster. I could easily imagine him with a claymore, except… One of his arms, his left arm, was in a sling, and it was in a cast. My smile faded a little.

"What happened to your arm?" Before I even said it, I knew it had something to do with Mindy. The look of it took my smile right off. Something felt wrong. Immediately, I was looking around the room, my Kick-Ass-sense reactivated. I couldn't help it. I was Pavlov's Dog, and it refused to fade away even long after Demoness' defeat.

"It's fine, cheery, don't worry about it, happened a few months ago when I failed to hypnotise Mindy Macready." The doctor explained. He wasn't even looking at his clipboard anymore. Mindy must have made quite an impression upon him. There was a glass of whisky on his side – for a moment I thought he was, again, nervous, but I didn't see any beads of sweat, "It'd be out of the cast soon, so it's fine and dandy, yeah?"

"Please, have a seat." He waved his only working hand over the rather comfortable satin chair he had ahead of his desk, "Now let's get down to the patient, shall we?" _Patient!? _My paranoid mind screamed, _Still a patient!?_

"Look, I know you're absolutely, undoubtedly excited, happy, in cloud 9 over this, as I'm sure, but there are many things you should know first." I was wide-eyed and wide-mouthed before it even started. I was going, 'No, not another horrible twist again…', like when I was watching an incredibly horrible movie, except this was way, way worse. My stomach was wrenching itself, tied in an intricate knot that only a 50 year old boy scout could disentangle. Doctor Paul noticed my distress, not that I was a master at hiding my feelings, "Look here, son, it's not… that bad, considering the alternative." Now that he mentioned the alternative, I couldn't help but to agree – anything's better than Demoness running around the city, killing hundreds all over again, starting another mass funeral. I cared less about her vendetta against me. You wouldn't either, not especially after you'd seen the procession going down the city, the women and children in black, the walls of sympathy…

"What are you saying?" I feel like a soldier in Vietnam on an electrified bed, begging for a Rambo to save me from it, "What happened to Mindy?" Dr. Paul was looking at his clipboard again. I froze, tried to peek in on the details myself, but I couldn't read it from afar, and the words I could somehow make out didn't make half a lick of sense.

"Where do I start?" The good doctor said, still looking at his clipboard, and for the next few seconds, was silent. It felt like forever, as the cliché goes, but it was no cliché to me. I was dying inside, "Well, to start… She's not Mindy anymore. It's Mandy now."

"Man… Mandy?" It doesn't click with me. The most I could think of was that there was some kind of a new personality from her Dissociative Identity Disorder. Heck, I was running on nothing but a thread here. I couldn't even remember the DID term until I glanced it off the clipboard.

"Yes, she's not Mindy anymore, and certainly not Hit-Girl, and most importantly, she's not Demoness anymore." He continued. My heart felt like it needed a defibrillator. I would have been glad if she was cured, but this was something else entirely, I felt it down to the bones, and my bones weren't made of Adamantium.

"I've tried every treatment available. In the area of Psychotherapy alone, I've exhausted Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, Dialectical Behavioural Therapy, Insight-Oriented Therapies, Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. Then there's Hypnotherapy, which of course, as you might gather, gave me this broken arm." I couldn't even understand half of what he was saying. All I could focus on was the bit where Mindy, the Hit-Girl I knew, the girl who I helped Marcus Williams to take care of, God rest his soul, the girl who I had to tuck in at night at the cop's house, who I had to comfort on many said nights to even get her to even take a nap ever since Big Daddy died, the strong girl who single-handedly took down the notorious D'Amico family, was no more, somehow gone, just gone like that, "- No doubt been exhausted as well. You wouldn't want to know the kind of chemicals I had to pump into her on a regular basis, and most of them don't work." He had continued droning on even when I was losing focus, remembering the Mindy Macready I knew, the Hit-Girl who saved me from being executed live in front of a camera, before the whole wide city.

"You… brainwashed her." I choked on my own words. My brain felt like it was expanding. I was clutching my head, covering my eyes. The dam broke again, just like it always did in the last year – Tears were spilling. I could feel pain, almost physical pain in there, in my skull. I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up in the asylum the next day, kept in a straitjacket.

"That's a crude term, not even half right, but excusable." The doctor continued. Despite understanding my distress, he seemed confident in what he was doing. I couldn't help but to imagine him in a corny Nazi SS Uniform, but half of me knew that it wasn't his fault, "It was an experimental treatment, a package of treatment I used to deconstruct and reconstruct her, deleting memories and personality traits at the root of her Demoness complex. In simpler terms, it's a combination of memory-wiping drugs, electroshock treatment, and various forms of procedural therapy." His last explanation was a little more on my level. I could understand, just barely, not that it made it any easier.

"I understand this is very hard, very difficult on you. I've read your accounts, all 129 pages of them, but this is the only way. We've worked together for the past year, that is over 320 days, and you would have to trust me." The doctor continued. The next time I looked up, he had already put down his clipboard, "Dave, listen to me. What I say next will be substantial, important, very essential." And I was thinking at the time, _isn't everything you've said so far extremely substantial? Too substantial?_

"Her treatment is not over. The next phase falls upon you. I've done the deconstruction, I've cut away the tumour, x-rayed the cancer. She's a clean slate now, and you're her new author." The doctor continued. His clipboard was down, but he had switched to his computer, "She doesn't even know her new name, Mandy. You could choose to give her a new name, but I recommend Mandy Lizewski, just not Mindy and especially not Mindy Macready. I need you to stir her clear from all that nonsense that drove her down to my Institute, do you understand?"

I could only nod, and nod away. Mindy… or rather Mandy, had to be given a life far away from violence, from all that military and police training Big Daddy had given her, from all that experience she had taking down petty criminals and the bigger mobs and mafia. No more superheroes, no more comic books, not even that sort of cartoons, "Give her a feminine life, something normal. There might be some residual memories – maybe an odd muscle memory, or an unclear emotional response, but with time, she will completely forget, as you call it, get over it, get a move on, and she will then live the normal life she deserves."

"Are you ready to meet her?" The doctor said as he was switching off the monitor on his computer, putting his only good hand over his clipboard ceremoniously.

"Yes, yes, please." I said, my voice visibly shaking, but not from straight-up happiness or excitement any longer. I was terrified, somehow, of meeting this new vulnerable little girl the doctor told me about as opposed to the Hit-Girl I knew who could kill a man with his own finger. I was more used to the rough Hit-Girl as opposed to… Mandy. I regretted not convincing dad to come with me.


	4. Reborn

**The Descent**

**Chapter 3: Reborn**

We were walking down the hospital again. A tiny part of me was glad that this would be the last time, and that I won't be going through the low and high security areas into maximum security, but the rest of my brain was a battlefield pounded to dust by heroes and villains.

"The effect of the retrograde amnesia I induced in her had to be widespread, thorough." The doctor continued as we were walking through the endless, white corridor, making me wish for amnesia myself. The more I hear the more fucked up I feel, "This father of hers you wrote about did quite a number on her. More than half of her short life had to be axed away, but of course, don't worry. That is an oversimplified explanation."

Inside, I was wishing for him to just stop, to just pause for a second, that the complex explanation would absolutely kill me, but as Mindy's friend, or as I'd like to think, family, I knew I had to take it, one wallop at a time. Somehow, it was even worse than all that beating I took from those streetfights I got involved in as Kick-Ass. It was more insidious, screwing my insides left and right.

"Her range of expression will still be similar. She will retain most of her vocabulary and speech skills. Her motor skills are more or less intact… With the right chemicals and procedures I managed to wipe away most, if not everything that was violent." The doctor said, and my confidence in a happy ending was dwindled into a midget shorter than Mindy.

"Similar? More or less?" Rhetorical questions aside, I didn't like the way the doctor puts it.

"Well, she might stumble on her own words and feet once in a while, but don't worry, yeah? It's not permanent. Think of it as the hurdles a normal kid would have to cross before establishing her personality. The neurochemicals I gave her and the dosage were strictly controlled, but collateral damage cannot be avoided." The doctor elaborated. Upon hearing more about the science fiction nightmare Mindy was put through, I had to stop and lean on the wall. My morning cereal mixed in with acid could be felt coming up my gullet, so I had to push it back down and put a hand over my mouth in case some of it decides to pour out.

"What else do I have to worry about?" I said, and couldn't help but to feel tired and lethargic, even this early in the day. I couldn't help the cynicism in what I say. It was overwhelming right from the start, and now it was like the Golden Horde Hellboy had to face.

"As I have iterated before, keep her away from any physical activity even resembling what she used to do as Hitgirl and Demoness. While she was under my care, I've forbidden her from physical exercises." The doctor continued.

"So, what, do I lock her up in her room for the rest of her life?" The sarcasm can't be helped either. I was falling beyond the point of no return, and it didn't make me a very happy man. This wasn't normal, even after all I'd seen, and just 2 years ago, real life superhero costumes weren't even normal. I was falling too fast, "Mindy would have been better off dead."

"No, by God, no." Somehow, the doctor, after everything he had done, sounded a little shocked. I looked at him again, and he looked confident. The only saving grace was that he looked sympathetic, concerned. I was expecting him to fall into the disinterested physician category, "Some jogging and aerobic exercise would be fine, and whatever other exercises girls do to keep fit and their figure good. Just no martial arts, no extreme sports, nothing of what you people would term as 'hardcore'." This time, I kept silent, I kept falling.

"Mentally, I believe she's lost about a year or two of basic development, but with some hard work I'm sure she could catch up. From what I gathered all these months, she's very intelligent, just that her intelligence was used in some… unconventional ways." I almost retched. _So not only have you turned her into a klutz and a babble-mouth_, I mentally criticized him sharply, _you dumbed her down!? _The old Mindy would have preferred a bullet to the brain.

When I was ready to walk down the same whitish, spotless corridor again, we did so in silence, and I was stewing in all the new shit the Doctor had thrown in me. My anxiety was about to go supercritical. Slowly but steadily, the low security checkpoint came into view around the next bend. I could easily hear my own heartbeat, and I wasn't sure if it was even beating the right way anymore. I was more worried about Mindy's health than my own.

"A final word of advice, Dave." It was as if the doctor decided that the million bombs he dropped on me wasn't enough. I knew he was doing his job, doing the right thing, that it was good for me to listen, but there was just too much of a good thing. I had to psyche myself up into listening, "When I say 'stir her clear from all that nonsense that drove her down to my Institute', I mean right down to the specifics. I don't even want her to like the same colours anymore, am I clear? This is important for Mindy's recovery, do you understand?" I nodded, again. It was all I could do. I was completely done over by him. I felt brainwashed myself.

After clearing the checkpoint, we came into the same patient lounge area, the same place where the more docile patients were kept. There were patients milling about, playing card games, reading, watching televisions or zoning out, supervised by orderlies. My stomach twisted again, the way Mindy would twist my arm back if she wants to subdue me. I was hoping to see her there, but none of the patients were even remotely her size. It was reminiscent of the many times I had gone through the low-security zone without seeing Mindy. My overactive Kick-Ass sense told me she had somehow tricked Dr. Paul and escaped. The next few steps were difficult as I fought back both the anxiety of seeing 'Mandy' and the irrational fear of a sudden Demoness ambush. But as the lounge came completely into view…

Mindy had sunken into a couch in a corner just out of my sight a moment ago, accompanied by a single, somewhat scrawny bespectacled orderly, which was a very good sign. She was wearing a white dress with a red ribbon wrapped around her waist, a pair of schoolgirl shoes with high socks. Her hair was tied into a pair of pigtails, tied together by red ribbons, not unlike the kind she wore to infiltrate the D'Amico headquarters, back when we had Frank to deal with. Upon entering that line of thought, I had to push it the hell out. I was already fucking terrified enough.

She was a little pale, almost like she was anaemic, and she was still as thin as the last time I saw her – she really hadn't been exercising. The Mindy I knew was never muscular like a weightlifter, but she was well-toned. Now, she looked… vulnerable, like some Victorian princess, two things I would never have associated with the Mindy I knew. She didn't even have a suitcase with her – I figured the doctor had confiscated everything that came with her into the Institute, for fear that they would trigger any lingering old memories or emotions.

Then she turned to me, regarded me with a blank, innocent stare. I could clearly see confusion and misery in her eyes, though by this time she was probably confused at what she was confused and miserable about. I turned to the doctor, unsure of what to do, but the doctor beckoned me on. I understood his gesture after a moment.

For a moment though, if you could get past all that, she looked like she had been reborn, what with the white dress and the bright morning sunlight shining in to illuminate her blond hair. For the moment, I tried to focus on that – that she was better off now than before.

I walked forward to Mindy, bent down so that I could look eye-to-eye with her on the same level. For some reason, she shrunk away from me, hugging the far side of the couch, intimidated. Intimidated! Mindy! Another word I wouldn't have associated with her. Back before Demoness tried to kill me, a legion of mobsters weren't shit to her. Now it seemed as if everyone in the patient's lounge were demons from hell to her.

"Hey girl, it's me…" I opened with the only thing I could think of, a reiteration of the last things I said to her before she tried to kill me with a red crayon the last time. I was never good at saying hellos and goodbyes.

"Who… are you?" Mindy said, her voice quivering and ignorant. I was no longer the most anxious person in the room anymore. She looked at me with unrecognising eyes, as if it was the first time she'd seen me. It occurred to me that a Disney princess would have been in a better position than her.

"I'm Dave Lizewski. I'm… your older brother." I lied, again. I tried to keep a straight face. I had no choice now, as her mental health was in the balance. For a moment, through that thick haze of exhaustion apparent in her eyes, I saw a sparkle of curiosity. It felt almost too easy to read her, but I could tell she was convinced. The Mindy I knew would have seen through my lies immediately.

"Dave… Lizooski." She repeated, a little off the mark. _Babble-mouth! You turned her into a babble-mouth, doc!_ I kept a straight face. It was an important moment, but I was torn apart, tearing up inside. Once upon a time, she was a witty, funny girl who would throw a good line or two even in the face of crackhead gangsters.

"Then what's my name? Doctor Paul said you know my name…" The only consolation I had was that she was warming up to me a little. She seemed to have relaxed a bit, though she was still quite tense, and was still squeezing herself into a corner of the old one-seater couch she was sitting in. She seemed distressed, as though she knew she had lost something. I looked at the doctor, hoping to find some advice written in his face. He nodded. I went with it.

"Mandy. Your name is Mandy Lizewski, sweetie." I lied, again, keeping my straight face, this time trying my best to put on the loving elder brother hat.

"Mandy… Lizooski?" Again, she repeated unsuccessfully. She said the name slow, trying to take it in. From the way she was trying to enunciate the words, it was apparent that it was totally unfamiliar to her. She was a blank slate.

"Lizewski, sweetie." I corrected her as gently as possible, but all the same, she took it with a wince. One upon a time, she wouldn't even wince at a bullet.

"Li…zewski." She pronounced it slow, as if a kid trying to get used to moving her mouth. I nodded in approval, exaggerating my actions a bit so that she'd know damn well that she had gotten it. I smiled at her achievement. She smiled back like a sweet little innocent girl, which served to bruise my memory of Hit-Girl even more, "I don't remember…" At first, I was completely in the dark about what she meant, but I got it eventually. She knew she had lost quite a bit of her memories. I could see it in her agony.

"You'll be fine, Mandy. You'll remember." I lied, and couldn't stop my voice from cracking up. It was a name I'd have to get used to for the rest of my life. The doctor nodded in approval of my choices.

"Why are you crying?" Mindy asked in her now trademark innocent way, and when she did, I realised what I was doing, and did it more anyway. The dam had broken again. At least she was genuinely concerned.

"Nothing, nothing. I'm just glad to see you." I said. At least this time, I got to be a little sincere. It was one of many reasons for my tears, but a little bit of honesty was better than nothing these days. It was a luxury I took for granted, and its stock price had just shot up. Mindy seemed to like it. She smiled a little.

"Well, great, good. Now that the two of you have met once again, I believe it's time to check out." The doctor came forward, relieving me. His voice woke me up a little from the surreal moment, and I wiped my sweat, stuck out my hand for her to take. At first, she was reluctant, even afraid, but eventually, she did, and she looked up at me with a sweet, sweet smile. Her new smile had become my new source of strength, even if it was creating a dissonance with her image, the image of a girl who used to be Hit-Girl.

Together, we proceeded to the checkpoint, but before we did, we stopped over at the pharmacy on the way, where I had to collect the medication for Mindy. The way Doctor Paul describes, they were supposed to help with depression, to help her to sleep. There was like some half a dozen types of pills for her.

"Here's a lollipop for the sweet girl!" One of the nurses so kindly dispensed. She passed it to me, and I passed it to Mindy, whose face lit up at the sight of the candy. For some reason, I couldn't bear to look at her like that. She was soon doing away the wrappers and sucking on it. In a white dress, red ribbon and schoolgirl shoes. A part of me was beginning to hope that Mindy was just acting.

Before we finally crossed the gates of Jameson Psychiatry Institute, the doctor pulled me aside once again, "Remember, don't give in to her questions, just keep doing this. If you have any questions, call my office. I will check in on her now and then."

We left in a cab, and some of the staff decided to do a proper farewell, waving Mindy goodbye as the taxi took off. Even the guy with the pirate patch was there. Mindy was waving back, acting like an angel, friendly to the orderlies, guards, nurses and doctors she used to terrorise in their duties. It was amazing that they still cared, but then again, it was understandable. Imagine a girl 11 years-old, coming into your asylum, an insane killer who swears and self-harm, breaking every single taboo in society. Won't you want to wish her a happy ending? She was a kid, a girl, and it wasn't her fault at all. It was the perfect sympathy combination.

On the way home, Mindy fell asleep soon after she finished her lollipop. She must be dead tired to have fallen asleep like that. When we got home, I had to carry her to the spare room we set aside for her, which was bare and almost untouched. I could remember how much she used to weigh, back when I had to carry her on a jetpack, back when she nearly died by Frank's hands. She was lighter, even with her change of equipment considered. She did grow a bit taller, but she was lighter.

Laying her down in bed, I pulled a bedsheet over her, made sure she was comfortable. When I was done with her, I pulled out my cellphone and went out of the room, dialling a number. The phone rang for a while before someone picked it up, "Hey, buddy ol' pal, what's up? How's Mindy?"

"**Yeah… About her…"**


	5. Muscle Spasms

**The Descent**

**Chapter 4: Muscle Spasms**

I told my dad everything he needed to know. I couldn't even begin to imagine the look on his face. The man who suspected everything and anything about me in his fatherhood fears was speechless over Mindy. Sure, I was the teenager who lost his mother, the superhero wannabe who was knocked down by a car, and I was nearly killed by Mindy herself, but I was never the kid with a mental case so severe that it would necessitate a near-total brain wipe. That was what Mindy was, and even my dad was way over his head. At least in this way, we were united ever closer. A common cause, like Batman and Robin.

"So no, no pink and purple paint for her room, dad." I said over the phone. To anybody, they were just colours, 2 shades of red. To the Mindy I knew, they were more. They were the theme for her Hit-Girl uniform, quite possibly her favourite colours. I've been to her old room at Marcus' house countless times, and her old room was painted in those colours, "we need a totally different colour. Even the doctor himself ordered it." Pink and purple brought a lot of memories up within me, Mindy's triumph and tragedies as Hit-Girl. If it could affect me so much, I knew it would be her Kryptonite, except with an added bonus of turning her into Evil Superman.

"Okay…" I could almost hear my dad thinking. I'd gotten to know him that well, "How about baby and sky blue?" Upon hearing his suggestion, it was my turn to be speechless, but in a good way. He still had it in him after all. After giving him my positive feedback, we were done, and he'd need to go back to work, "We'll talk more about this when I get back home, okay?"

When dad hung up I returned to Mindy's side, grabbed a chair and just sat there, just thinking, watching her. I couldn't bear to leave her alone – she had become so fragile, vulnerable. Yet, it was the only way, leaving Hit-Girl behind, and heralding in Mandy Lizewski. As I watched her sleep, she appeared so still that she looked deceased. I couldn't help but to press my ear up to her mouth, to hear and feel her breathe. She was really, really exhausted.

**Later…**

Darkness. Cold Darkness. "Dave? Where are you? I'm scared! I'm so scared!" I cried.

People screaming, shouting. "Dave!" I shouted, no one spoke to me. I was crying, but no one spoke to me.

_BAM!_ An explosion rang out, I can't describe it – so loud!

"Dave!" I shouted again. I crawled into a hole. I'm so, very scared!

There were more explosions, many, many more. I couldn't see. My ears hurt so bad!

"Get the lighter!" Someone in the darkness shouted.

"It's got to be right over there, find the lighter!" Someone else shouted. I squeezed myself deeper into my hidey hole. I'm so scared! Sparks flying above! Tears on my face…

"I got it!" A very bad man shouted. I don't know why he's bad.

"NO!"

…

"TAKE COVER CHILD!" Explosions! They said they lit a fire, but it was still dark. I fell down, I kept falling. I don't know where the floor was anymore. So… Scared… Falling…

…

…

"NOW SWIIIIITCH TO KRYPTONIIIIIIIIIITE!" Pain so much pain so much pain…

…

…

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" No no no no no! Stop please please stop! Please please please…

…

…

"NOW GO TO ROBIIIIIIIIIIIIIN'S REVEEEEEEEENNNNNGE!"

…

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! " Please stop please stop please please please I can't see I can't see…

STOP!

…

Someone in the darkness shouted. I woke up with a jolt, and found myself tumbling down the chair I was sitting on. The high-pitched scream continued, and on the floor I writhed like a snake, turned so that I could see where it was coming from. By the time I saw that it was Mindy, she'd calmed down a little, or at least stopped screaming.

"Mi- Mandy! What happened!? Why are you.!?" I blurted out in panic as I held her, tried to calm her down. I never knew I had a father's instinct within me. For a while, all she did was to sob, cry into my shoulder. I still couldn't believe the girl I had in my arms, crying her eyes out after a nap, was Mindy Macready, or Hit-Girl, slayer of hundreds – but of course, I couldn't call her that anymore.

"I- I was having a… a…" She finally said something, although that didn't mean she stopped crying. For a minute or two, I was cooing her, trying to get her to calm down before I talk about my own concerns.

"Was it a nightmare? What was it about?" I completed her sentence and asked, and already, it felt like a gambit to do that, with Mindy's mental health as the chip on the table. Upon hearing my question, she turned on like a faucet again, tears and snot and all, but managed to keep herself under control – an achievement for Mindy during this darkest age of hers.

"I don't know. It was dark, it was-" The faucet in her turned on again, but it switched off soon after, "I-it was dark, I hear people sh-shouting, I can't understand."

"I can't remember what was happening- It was so dark…" Mindy continued to describe her nightmare. I couldn't understand heads or tails of what she was talking about. In the end, it seemed like one of those meaningless nightmares, not the kind that every protagonist in every movie and comic seem to have. She started crying again.

"It's okay, hey, don't think about it anymore…" I told her, trying my best to comfort her, "Go back to sleep…" I laid her back down on her bed, and begrudgingly, Mindy nodded. After she was still again, I stood up, gave myself a stretch and turned towards the window – bright light was still shining through. It couldn't have been more than a few hours of nap the both of us had taken. When I turned towards the door, I saw that dad was there, leaning against the doorframe, rubbing his forehead, "Dad?"

"Hey son. How is she?" He asked as he was walking over, looking at Mindy over my shoulder, his wrinkles visible under the strain of his worry.

"She's fine, just having a nightmare." I continued stretching, talking between words. My body felt stiffer than it was supposed to be, more fresh, "What time is it? Are you early from work?"

"Actually, dawn just broke. It's Tuesday, Dave." What he said next sent a shock down my spine, a fully charged defibrillator.

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears – I'd slept through Monday. Was I really that tired? Had Mindy really affected me that much? Warped me right into the future? It was my initiation into the responsibilities of an elder brother, and it felt like… the Twilight Zone. At first, I was worried about school, but Mindy was the new first.

Together, we went to work in my room, tearing down posters, boxing away merchandises and figurines, packing up comic books by the stacks. My Kick-Ass uniform was consigned to a luggage case. I had a last look before I locked it away. It was my original design, plus dad's old security belt. Then there was the helmet and vest, which had a green and yellow paintjob, a gift from my father, and his brilliant way of revealing his secret knowledge of my activities as Kick-Ass. There were still scuffs and cut marks on it, some blood. Some of it belonged to Mindy, the rest was mine. It was the result of my last battle as Kick-Ass, the one when I finally subdued Mindy as Demoness, when her insanity had reached its peak. To this day, I couldn't believe I managed it, especially considering the hundreds who failed before me, including Grandmaster and Michael, including Marcus, Mindy's adoptive father, slain by Mindy in one of her episodes of insanity.

Everything was moved to the attic, to be locked away forever, or at least until Mindy was cured enough to cope. It was all for Mindy, even if it meant no more Fantastic 4s, X-Men or my choir of Batmen. All we had to do was to lock the ladder to the attic and forbid Mindy to go up, and she would be safe from their mental suggestions which, according to Doctor Paul's opinion, could bring about a relapse. Admittedly though, I had second thoughts about sticking my Kick-Ass stuff up there. Over the years, they'd grown to be an irremovable part of me.

Even as I was grieving over Mindy's continued insanity, being locked away in an asylum, I was still out on patrols, albeit very irregularly, and it wasn't for fighting crime either. Somehow, in some way, it helped, if only a little, to be out there walking the walk. It gave me the illusion of doing something. As crime rate was at an all-time low, what with the fall of the D'Amico empire for good due to Demoness' self-carved path of destruction, there wasn't a lot of action back then, just an odd purse-snatcher or flasher. Most of the requests coming through the internet were either issues brought out of proportions (like a break-up) or something illegal or criminal (such as a hit-man contract).

In the end, it was all for the best. Kick-Ass – no more.

**An hour later…**

When Mindy woke up again, it wasn't the next day on Wednesday, just an hour after she jumped from her nightmare. It makes sense, after all, how long could a kid sleep? Not to mention the nightmare. I knew I wouldn't really feel like tucking in after one, and I can't imagine being in her shoes, being confused, afraid, not even remembering who you were, being in a house you don't know with a guy you just met. Then throw in the nightmare after that.

When she woke up I had to take her to the bathroom – she'd yet to learn her way around home. For clothes, we couldn't give her the same ones she had back at Marcus'. Dad did some shopping after his shift ended, and bought a few sets of free-sized kiddy skirts and shirts.

"Know how to brush your teeth?" It sounded like a stupid question to ask, but with Mindy, I could never be too sure anymore. She couldn't even pronounce her own name right the previous morning. For the moment it came tumbling out of my mouth, I thought it would offend her.

"Yes…" But the good doctor had taken that out of her as well. I remembered his words well, 'With the right chemicals and procedures I managed to wipe away most, if not everything that was violent.' Somehow, I'd prefer her to snap back at me. 'You wanna know what I know? I sure know how to bust your teeth, prick!' Was somehow what I preferred. Crazy, I know.

"Okay. Great." It felt so awkward, but at least Mindy didn't know. In fact, I was actually worried she won't know what 'awkward' actually means, "Well, your clothes are over there, and here's your towel, and…" I went on ahead to switch on the faucet over the bathtub for her – shoot me for being overprotective, but if you think I am, you're so totally right. The faucet can't be beyond her, but it was just me being new to taking care of someone. Heck, I could barely even take care of myself, even as Kick-Ass, "Yell if you need anything."

I had scarcely left the bathroom when I heard a yell from inside. It was more like a scream, a little girl's cry of help for her big brother. Something else was freaking her out other than a nightmare. _God is wrong this time!_ My mind was racing through the possibilities as I swung the door open. Mindy'd put on a towel just in time for me to avoid seeing her buck naked – and thank God for that, as I don't know what that might do to her, "Mandy, what's wrong!?" She was whining quite a bit even after I came in, and she was looking at her own arms, her fingers running down – I had answered my own question – her old wounds, which by now were thin white lines running all over her arms, right up to her shoulders and then further in, I wouldn't want to know how far in. They were somehow even lighter than her anaemic skin tone.

"What happened to me?" She was close to tears, but at least not there yet.

"Mandy, you were in a…" _What?_ Surprisingly I hadn't thought of a fake origin story for her, and the doctor didn't give me any suggestions either. I tried to think of something, but the good stuff was eluding me just when I needed them. Not wanting to look suspicious, I went with the best one off the top of my head, "Bus accident."

The truth was far, far worse than that. The truth was something even a sane person such as me could barely take. Back in the day when Mindy could no longer cope with her real father's death and went crazy enough to grow a new dark self, this new dark self LOVES pain. If there was such a thing as a Cenobite, Demoness would be one of them.

"Is that why I can't… remember?" She asked – as Mandy, Mindy was far more curious, probably because she had so much to learn as opposed to her old self. I sighed, not for her, but for my predicament. I was never a compulsive liar, and most of my lies had something to do with Kick-Ass, you know, fighting crime and saving the world (or at least New York)?

"Y-yeah, that's why." My latest lie stung – I couldn't even tell her what had happened to her own body. I could only feel glad that she didn't have to know what I know, yet I didn't want to feel too comfortable. Somehow, she took it all in without even suspecting that I was lying. An innocent Mindy was the other thing I had to get used to, other than lying.

"Oh, Mindy…" I whispered to myself – I was getting wound up tight because of all this.

"Did you… say something, Dave..?" Mindy's voice caught me off-guard.

"What? Nothing! I didn't say anything!" She brought me back to reality, to the fact that I nearly slipped up. The next time I looked at her face, I was thankful that all I saw was confusion, bewilderment. _Good, she didn't hear that_, I thought guiltily, felt like a rat, "When you're done, come down and meet dad. He's been waiting for you."

She'd woke up just in time for me to introduce her to her new big daddy over a bowl of cereals. Except dad made something else, a special to welcome Mindy into the family. While he was busy setting up the dishes, I was waiting at the living room, always afraid that something else might happen.

When I heard her walking down the stairs, not exactly quiet and stealthy, she was cringing, hugging the far side of the stairs, as though afraid that an entire army of giant locusts was waiting for her. She was incredibly shy, and it took away the little smile I had mustered at the thought of my dad and her meeting. And by the time she was in my dad's gifts, she was a 180 degrees turn from Hit-Girl. I could barely recognise her. "Nervous?" Her face says it all, there was no need for words.

"How is dad like?" She whispered timidly as I joined her near the foot of the stairs. She was staying on it, as if the first floor was made of radioactive acid, "Will he… make me do a hundred push-ups every morning or… something?" It sounded like a residual memory if there ever was one, though she didn't look like she was used to a hundred push-ups. As I looked at her eyes, I could tell that she doesn't even know what she was saying.

"No, of course not! Why would you think that?" I remembered Doctor Paul's words. If there was a residual memory, I had to stamp it out, push it aside and replace it with something else. Until she 'gets over it', "C'mon, Mandy, you'll like him." And of course, there's lying 101, "Just like how you used to. You loved him, Mandy." If anything, it got her down the stairs. "Dad! Mandy's downstairs!"

We walked over to the kitchen. Mindy refused to budge until I hold hands with her, and even then, she was hiding behind me, poking her head out. I would have said 'used me as a meatshield', but that just doesn't work anymore. As we got into the kitchen, dad was just done setting the table. Orange juice and banana pancakes, a little singed but not much, the ideal suburban breakfast.

"Hey, little pal! How're you feeling?" My father surprised even me. He was a little more active than usual. I'd like to think that Mindy had really brought some life into the house just like how he said the family needed a new kid.

I could feel Mindy getting deeper behind me before stepping out again. "Erm… Better?" I could tell that he was scaring the new kid in the house with his enthusiasm a bit, but in the end, I didn't really do any better in the beginning. Plus, at this point, Mindy was afraid of everything, so there was never anything personal left.

"C'mon in! Here's your seat, make yourself comfortable!" Dad invited Mindy to the dining table, pulling her chair back for her, but I had to egg her on a few times, "Today's a special day! So I cooked up something special for our special little girl, Mandy!" I sat myself down opposite her on the table. She was looking at me for advice, cringing without knowing why she was cringing, confused (_residual memory?_). I gave her the 'roll with the program' look even though I could sympathise. My dad hadn't done pancakes for years. Alice Lizewski, my mom, used to do it for us every week, and my dad would usually help out. Ever since her death by aneurysm, it became a dead tradition. To have it out of the blue like this was weird even for me.

When dad was done washing up, I took up my fork and knife but he stopped me. Looking up, I could already see him wagging his finger, "Ah, ah, no, Dave. Prayer first." Speaking of dead traditions, there's another one. As dad was leading the prayer, I opened an eye and took a peek at Mindy, who looked entirely unnatural as she was clasping her hands in prayer. The poor thing was made entirely out of confusion. I had no doubt whatsoever that she had never done this before, not even back when Big Daddy was still alive and all was well. Forgiveness wasn't exactly in their bible.

The first thing that Mindy reached for was her glass of orange juice. She did look thirsty, among other things. "How was it? Good?" Dad asked after she took a timid sip. Mindy seemed unsure of what to say. She just turned and smiled at dad – it was a bigger smile though, "That's my girl." Dad's own smile was a fresh one. He hadn't done that for a while, not even with me. "I love you, Mandy." And he was already stroking her head like she was his very own. I hadn't the experience to comment on that. Maybe he did want a daughter SO bad, or maybe she'd become the thing his fatherhood needs ever since I checked out (largely) recently. Mandy, who was looking timidly down at the table, smiled meekly. She seemed to like everything so far.

Dad started cutting his pancake, took a bite out of his own creation. Mindy seemed overly obedient, and was waiting for him to do the honours, "Oh, it's better than I thought! Give it a try, Mandy."

Then Mindy took up her fork and knife from the table. At first, I was eating my own pancake and appreciating dad's masterpiece, but when I looked at her, I nearly spat them out had they not gone the other way down involuntarily, "Mandy, is your hand okay?" I asked, horrified. It didn't help that I nearly choked. I couldn't move. I was frozen, my own knife stuck in my own hand. Her knife-hand was visibly shaking, and my dad was sitting beside her. When she saw her own trembling hand, she looked shocked herself, and dropped the knife promptly. Didn't stop it from shaking, and that terrified her. I was nearly shitting my pants. Dad was on to it quick.

"Must be muscle spasms." Dad was off his seat quickly, massaging her left hand and arm. The trembling went away soon after, "Don't worry about it, sweet pea. Happens to everyone all the time, right Dave?" He looked at me, and I nodded affirmatively. _Yeah sure it does_, "Here, lemme cut your pancake up for you…"

After that episode with the killer hand, I've got to admit, when it was time to leave for school, I wasn't entirely willing to leave dad alone in the house with the girl who used to be Demoness.


	6. A Week On

**The Descent**

**Chapter 5: A Week On**

**7 June 2011, Tuesday**

Deer Diary,

Dad bought you for me so that I could write down my feelings. When Dave left for skool today, dad brought me shopping in the supermarket, and he found you there. He said you would help me. Thanks dad! And thank you too, diary.

I found out from Dave that I'm 11 years old, and my birthday was just four months ago. He said since I dont remember my last birthday party, we will celebrate it again. I'm so happy!

Goodnight, diary!

**8 June 2011, Wendsday**

Deer Diary,

Dave brought me to his skool. He said that I will need to go to skool. I can't remember how skool was like. But why do I feel sad when I think about skool? Was it so bad there?

…

I knocked on the door to the principal's office. I didn't know what to think, but at least it had little to do with behavioural problems – I was never really a part of that, other than those few times when I got into fights and lost, and I didn't even start it. I didn't know what to think or what would happen, bringing Mindy in like that. Would anyone recognise her? I know she looked very different from how she was back then, but would it be enough? The only good thing I had going for me was that I was on good terms with the principal. Depression had its uses, and it gave me an obsession with school. That obsession with school gave me my good grades, and my sudden improvement in school grades'd put me in the principal's good books, "Come in."

"Morning, Dave. Interesting to see you! I wasn't expecting you here!" The principal was a woman in her forties, still quite hot, even in her business wear. She was different from the other educators I've met. She was livelier, more colourful. The others were either dying of boredom or overexposure to hyperactive children or angsty teenagers.

"Good morning, Mrs. Dixon." I greeted her formally. I didn't feel like being accused of reverse-paedophilia. For some reason, my mind's alarm for anything to do with that kind of stuff became dad's me-as-a-paedophilia joke.

"And who is this fine young lady you brought in?" She beamed and gazed at Mindy with an enthusiasm that even I found off-putting. Her piercing silvery-blue eyes didn't help – they looked like they could peer right into your soul. I could never tell if it was just part of her professional behaviour or if she was for real. Predictably, Mindy could never meet her eyes, choosing to look at a wall instead, and of course, she was hiding behind me, afraid or shy, or a combination of both, if I'm lucky.

"Oh, it's Mandy Lizewski." I introduced my adopted sister to the principal, gestured for her to stand on her own, to greet her.

"G-good morning, Mrs. Dixon." Mindy repeated what I said. For a moment, she met the principal's gaze, but then she turned away again. She couldn't find anything for her right hand to do, so she placed it over her left arm, an unconscious gesture of insecurity and nervousness. It wasn't the first time.

"Good morning, Miss Mandy Lizewski." The principal returned the greeting, trying to be as nice as possible, smiling wide, but Mandy wasn't looking at her face anymore. "Is she a relative? Cousin?"

"No, she's my sister." I said, trying to be as flat as possible, make it sound like old news. I was never sure how successful I was. The principal hardly changed her demeanor, "My dad wants her to study here." I was hoping that she'd pick up the home-school or other-school subtext I was trying to fabricate between the lines.

"Where's your father?" The principal asked, slightly toned down a bit. That was when I knew she's going down to business, or if she sensed something was up. I was desperately praying that she didn't recognise Mindy. Mindy didn't exactly have a very good reputation either in my school. In the final months before she went totally batshit insane, she became cold, unstable. She'd started bullying her schoolmates. I knew I should've seen one form of mental problem lining up or the other, but then again, who'd have realised she'd go full-blown insane months after? I'd bet anything that even Mindy didn't know she herself was going nuts. Her father'd trained her to be strong, I saw that in her when she didn't stop after he was gone, but continued on until Frank was killed – It was only a while after that that she broke down.

"Oh, that. He's on double-shift today." I explained the moment she asked, as I didn't even want a hint of doubt over Mindy. I didn't want to give the Principal time to remember her face, "Here's his letter and application form." Putting down my bag, I took out an envelope and a few papers stapled together and put them on her desk, "Could she sit in for today? To get comfortable?" It took her a few minutes to read through everything, to get them in order.

Mindy's situation was all explained in my dad's letter, everything except that she was once a student here called 'Mindy Macready'. When the principal was done reading, she was leaning back – never a good sign – and taking a good, hard look at Mindy. Mindy made eye contact again, only to regret it and go back to the wall or floor again. I couldn't help but to hold my breath and scramble for the best line to use. For a moment, I thought she'd call Mindy Macready out.

"Have I seen her around before?" The principal finally said, but it sounded rhetorical. Looking at Mindy and comparing her to her past, healthier self, I thought she looked very different myself. For a dreadful moment I thought I was mistaken, somehow too biased to judge, "Huh. Nevermind, sorry about that. I've been on the job for over two decades. I've gone through thousands of kids. I guess it's starting to show." Slowly and silently, I let out my breath and figured that if the principal can't tell if it was Mindy, everyone else won't.

Then the principal stood up. It caught me a little off-guard. And came towards Mindy, bent low so that she was at about her eye level, taking her hand, "I'm sorry about what happened to you, Mandy. We'll try to make sure you're comfortable here while you recover."

"Is it okay if Mandy sits in on her classes today?" I continued my negotiations, "My dad's on double-duty." I'd discussed this with my father – Mindy would need to work hard to catch up, and she'd need all the time she could get. I had an utterly dreadful feeling that she'd need to catch up quick, or she'd remain dumbed down forever – call me irrational, but it felt like the risk was there.

When we were out of the principal's office, I could sense that Mindy was afraid of being in class. As a first, a hint of annoyance entered me, but then again, was this how everyone started out? Being afraid? Doctor Paul had stripped away not just Mindy's years of training and experience, but also the confidence that came with it, plus 1 or 2 years of 'basic development', leaving behind a child even younger than 11. It was sure as hell how I started out, and it'd affected me since. Just look at my circle of friends. It was never really that big. Mindy had finally begun to take a step in that direction, as a normal child would, although I was beginning to wish that she didn't have to, not especially when…

"Dave, I'm scared, I- I don't want to go to class!" She'd said, pulling at my hand, refusing to move on. Class was almost starting, and there were a lot of elementary students around, some of who were bound to be Mindy's future classmates. Upon hearing what Mindy'd said, a few girls were already giggling past us. It didn't bode well for her. I shot a murderous look at them to get them to stop, and sure enough, they did. After all, I was in highschool.

I stopped, and bent low to regard her on equal grounds. At first, I didn't know what to say. What could I say? _Don't be afraid, it'd all be fine?_ I wasn't my father, and I knew very well that it'd be a tough journey ahead, especially for Mindy – she had her independence to lose when no other elementary school kids did. What the other students had was a past, a past that could give them a measure of strength, however short at a few years it was. Mindy was down to 2 or 3 days after Dr Paul was done with her. What could I say?

"Mandy." I said firmly, trying to catch her attention. At the very least, she could look me in the eyes; others were too tough for her to look at, "Before you lost your memories, before the… bus accident, you were strong." I remembered Hit-Girl taking punches and kicks that no girls could take. "You were smart." I remembered her outmanoeuvring a whole gang of criminals, "You knew how to laugh." I remembered her lines, full of vulgarities as they were. It was the best I could come up with. I remembered Dr. Paul's instructions, but I figured these were general enough.

"You knew how to make friends," Which was a lie of course, but that's up for interpretation. The old Mindy could have theoretically made friends – anyone could, just that she chose not to, or couldn't find the right crowd (though it wasn't so surprising that there weren't a lot of children like Mindy around). Eventually, it wasn't even her choice anymore, "It's all in you even if you can't remember. Okay, Mandy?"

Mindy smiled. That was a start, though somehow, it felt like I botched up somehow. It was a realisation for me that it wasn't exactly easy doing things that dad had to do with me.

…

Skool School was horrible. Now I no why I feel so sad, being in school. I stuttered when I introduced my name, and they luffed at me.

In English class, some of my classmates threw paperballs at me! They were so mean!

When I told Dave about it at lunchtime, he told me to 'just make friends' and ignore the paperball throwers. Lunchtime was the WORST. No one wants to sit with me. I feel sad and lonely.

I'm scared of tomorrow.

**9 June 2011, Thirstsday**

Deer Diary,

Math was hard today. I had trouble with division and multiplication, but Mrs. Davies was kind to me. She was patient and taught me how to do it on the board. Does she no about my memery memmery memory loss? Becourse Mrs. Davies was always angry at all the others.

But I am happy! I met friends today! Dave introduced them to me.

…

"Remember what we talked about, guys?" I said to my old friends, Marty and Todd. Just the previous day, I brought them into the loop, except that they knew about just as much as Mrs. Dixon and the teaching staff.

"Yeah, no superheroes, comic-books, action movies, sports, errr…" Todd started listing off everything, but ended only about half-way. He'd just discovered another way to frighten me.

"And no guns, sex, violence and profanity?" Marty finished it off. To be fair to Todd though, I wasn't even sure if that was everything. I was taking this one step at a time, improvising as I go. It was just like my Kick-Ass ordeal all over again. This time I had the gift of foresight, waiting for a car accident to happen. Except this time I won't let it happen.

"Then what are we going to talk about?" Todd complained. It ticked me off quite a bit – Mindy's sanity was on the line for crying out loud! I'd explained it to them not too long ago!

"I still can't believe you have a sister I didn't know about. I've been your friend ever since, like, fucking 5, man." Marty said. My ears, at this time, was oversensitive, so I shushed him when he used the famous four letter word, "Why the hell was she in Canada again?" And again, I shushed him, much to his annoyance. I couldn't help it, and they didn't know. I felt isolated from my buddies all of a sudden because of Mindy.

"And the fact she lost all her memories up to a few days ago? That's some _Wolverine_ shit right there, Dave! That's awesome!" Todd continued. By this time, I was freaking out, as I could already see Mindy going around the corner into the cafeteria. I nudged Todd in the kidney, perhaps a little too hard. I didn't even have the time to get offended by his idea of what is awesome.

When we sat down for lunch, it was even worst. I was always looking out for whatever disaster that could be coming out of Marty and Todd's mouth, not that a lot was coming out. For the first few minutes, we were just eating. Todd was right for once; comic-books and superheroes were the staple of our discussions and bonding.

Then Todd looked like he had a bright idea, "Have you guys seen the trailer for _Winnie the Pooh_?" His question was met with silence. Marty was leaning his head against his hand, trying to look interested against his wishes. I could tell that it was difficult for him. I didn't care, heck, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Yeah, it was… awesome. Totally." Marty said, this time playing along well enough.

"It's coming out in theatres this month right?" I contributed, hoping to keep milking this thread of discussion long enough. Mindy looks up from her plate, and seemed interested.

"Next month. Dude, we should all go when it opens." Todd continued. Marty looks tortured, but I didn't care.

"Sure! Wow, I didn't know you had it in you, Todd!" I said, gladly. Better this than them fouling up and uttering a four letter word or two. I was hoping for Mindy to say something, make a break for my friends.

"Can I come too?" She exclaimed – she had many reasons to be interested. From what she'd told me, she wasn't doing very well in class. Even without her killer stare and bully's complex, no one would befriend her on her first day. Marty and Todd would be the first.

"Of course you can, Mandy." I readily agreed. Then there was another few minutes of silence again. Revisiting our childhood wasn't our thing. We were the type who's always looking forward, looking forward to the next issue of _X-men_, or the next _Hulk_ movie. Looking forward to the next hot chick, or the next running gag between us.

"Have you guys been watching _Playhouse Disney_?" What came out of Todd had Marty rubbing his temples, and me questioning his childhood – _Playhouse Disney_ was beneath even Mindy, or at least I hoped so. Still, it was a better idea than talking about _The Punisher_ in front of her, "Is it still broadcasting _Barney the Dinosaur_?" Was Barney ever on that channel? Vindicating Todd, I never knew myself.

…

**10 June 2011, Fryday**

Deer Dear Diary,

School was tough today, but I think I'm better at math. I can remember some of it from before the bus accident. It's scary, to suddenly no things you never did.

I met a friend after class today. His name is Pete. He said that I was kool because of the words I used in composition. But I don't even know what a mag-lite is.

He loves comic books. Dave told me befor that they are bad and I should avoid them.

I love Dave. He was always with me right from when I woke up at that scary place with Dr. Paul. So I didn't look at the comic book he brought with him to skool school.

Anyway, Dave told me he's taking me to the park for jogging, so bye bye diary!

…

"Will we be running very far, Dave?" Mindy asked as I was getting on my bicycle, waiting for Mindy to get on to the backseat. Taking a quick look to see if she was sitting properly, I noticed that she was looking a little better. Less pallid, less depressed. I could barely see any eyebags at all. She was still thin, but not frail. Things were working out after all.

"No, not even a mile, at least for you." I replied. Doctor's orders. I couldn't allow her to do any rigorous exercises, I've called to even ask him. A mile, in fact, was pretty much the limit specifically set by the doctor, plus no other exercises after that.

"Why not? I feel so much better, Dave." She said with a wide smile. Good things have been happening, as she had told me. The paperballs weren't a bother to her anymore. Or at least, they were overshadowed by her meeting a new friend on her own and solving complex elementary math problems, "I feel like I could fly!" Now, ordinarily, you'd want to encourage a kid when she said that, or stick a _Superman_ in their hand. With Mindy though, it had the opposite effect on me.

"Now where did you get that idea from?" I asked, feigning calm. I was getting good at it, lying. It bothers me a bit that I was, but whenever I thought of Mindy, the uneasy feeling of lying to a kid goes away quickly enough.

"A dream. I dreamt that I was flying from one building to another." Mindy replied, and immediately I knew it was another residual memory. I remember Hit-Girl doing that sort of stunt, jumping from one rooftop to another. Specifically, after saving me from getting castrated by Rasul and his gang of crackheads.

"It's just a dream, Mandy. People don't fly." I lied, sort of. Admittedly, this one took away the comfort I'd built towards lying.

"Okay… Can I still run with you? All the way?" Mindy persisted. An alarm was sounding in my head, a red alert. Perhaps I was overimagining things, but it really felt like she was reawakening like Dark Phoenix or something, "It feels like we're a… team, and we should run together as a-"

"I said NO! Stop asking before I turn around!" Before I knew the best way of handling it, I was already freaking out. It was a knee-jerk response like no other. I guess down inside, I knew that it was a survival situation, a game of chess, with everyone's health on the line. I stopped the bicycle, in case I was too distracted to keep peddling. I turned to face her. She was crying, and it melted my heart, "Oh gosh, I'm sorry Mandy." I hugged and cooed her. It took her a bit of time to calm down. My guess? She was shocked that I would jump at her like that – I can't remember the last time I did that. It was a first.

"Mandy… it's important that you listen to me, okay?" I said, making sure that I spoke my words carefully. I needed a good reason to stop her from exercising too much. This time though, lying seemed different. This time, I was taking her athletic potential away, I was taking away her strength, her speed, her dexterity, everything that'd made kicking mafia ass possible. It was awesome when she did, but it had to be over now. Even as a stake was getting driven into my heart, I went ahead with my best idea, and it feels like I was getting good at coming up with excuses too, "You can't do things like that. You were born weak, Mandy. You were always sick; we nearly lost you a few times, plus the bus accident."

"But I feel better!" She was pleading me. It stung. Her stubbornness was a worrying trend, but I tried not to worry – reading online about parenting helped. Most kids were hyperactive by nature. They'd want to do a lot of things. Still, somewhere inside me, I knew that Mandy's stubbornness was a part of Mindy's stubbornness.

"No, no Mandy. It's happened too many times." I feel like a dirty, compulsive liar. Sometimes I wondered just how long I could keep the act up before spilling the beans out of guilt or getting tired. "You won't know it when you've run too much, then you'll get sick and go back to the hospital. Do you want to go back to the hospital?" Worryingly, I'd always try to comfort myself by thinking of it as the truth, resynthesized.

"No…" Her reply was immediate at the bare mention of the hospital. I doubt anyone would enjoy being in a hospital after getting back into the outside world. I bet Mindy was no different. Deep inside, I bet the real Mindy absolutely hates being in a hospital.

"And whenever you're in a hospital, everyone's going to be very sad. Do you want everyone to be sad?" I structured my question methodically, making sure there was no way out except for my way. I feel detestable, like Hannibal Lecter or Jigsaw.

"No…" She repeated her answer. I flashed a half-genuine smile, made it as real as possible. I was glad that the danger of her memories resurfacing was averted, but I was wrecked that I'd destroyed a frickin' highway of possibilities for her in life. Down the pipe went the possibilities of her becoming an athlete, a police officer, a soldier, a firewoman – anything really that required good fitness. If it goes really well, she could even forget about being a surgeon, a doctor, or a lawyer – Hey, you can't be wheezing while you're performing an arterial bypass or fighting a case. I felt like a low-down muck-dwelling crook. At least this way, I knew for certain that I was no Lex Luthor.

"So be a good girl, and don't run too far." I'd never believe I was capable of this a week ago. I sounded completely different, lecturing Mindy like that. I would never have figured that I would be in position this soon, or in the next decade for the matter.

"Okay." She replied, visibly upset.

"Good girl." I praised her, stroking her hair, but I was instantly reminded of Dad's me-as-a-paedophile joke for some reason.

Upon reaching the park, we started limbering off, but before we could finish, a superhero walked past us. A huge guy, but not the wrestling type. He was horizontally huge, as in obese, and he was in black tights with grey cape and overpants. A huge 'B' decorated his chest. "Wooow…" Mindy, with all her naivety, was amazed.

"You guys seen any crime around here?" The 'B' hero said. He had the worst opening line yet, reminding me of a hobo looking for thieves instead of coins. I began criticising everything about him with my eyes, I couldn't help it. He bounced like a water balloon nearing breaking point as he walked – he looked like he could barely run. The sweat collecting around his back and chest helped with the impression. The worst part was, he was jeopardising Mindy's memory the longer he was with us, "I'm The Buzzard, by the way." _So buzz off_, my evil side thought.

"No, not at all, Mr Buzzard." I said instead. It'd get him off our backs, plus, being Kick-Ass in secret, I didn't feel like treating my fellow super-heroes that badly, "Not here, please." But I couldn't help some of the quirks in my language when I'm wishing he was gone. And soon, with a few bounces, he was off.

"Is he a… superhero?" Mindy exclaimed excitedly. Thankfully, the Buzzard was bouncing off faster after someone, though I didn't bother if it was a criminal or an innocent person.

"Superheroes don't exist, Mandy. He's just an attention-seeker." Again with the half-truth. This time, I had to break my personal code, though I wasn't sure if I got through to her. She was still feasting her eyes on the Buzzard running after a person. I had to physically turn her head and get her back to limbering off, "Mandy! Are you listening to me?" I finally caught her attention. I was starting to regret taking her to the park, but investing some money in a running mill would cost far too much for dad to take, "What did I say?" I certainly caught her attention just as much, just not as Kick-Ass.

"You said that superheroes don't exist." She was mellowing out once again, repeating what I said as any kids would do.

"And before that, I told you it's important that you listen to me." I figured out quickly that scolding never was my style. I hated it, "Now, let's limber off."

The jogging cancelled out Mindy's bad mood. She seemed to like it, which made it all the harder for me to take it away from her. It didn't last very long though. She was out of breath and panting not even a quarter into it – a year completely without training had taken away all the stamina she'd worked for. Not even half a mile into it, Mindy tripped over her own foot and fell down. _Klutz, you turned her into a Klutz!_ I remembered my criticism of Dr Paul, of what he'd done to Mindy. She'd bruised and cut a knee on the road. She didn't take it too well, and started crying again as she was clutching her wounded knee. In the end, I had to carry her back to my bicycle – I had a first aid box just in case.

As I was washing it over and applying antiseptic, I had half my mind on the buzzard. It reminded me of my own superhero identity, of the superhero world. I became curious; Was the Buzzard the only one left? Crime was at a low as of late, ever since the D'Amico empire fell. My mind went back to the idea of becoming Kick-Ass again. The last time was months ago, and I hadn't bothered to even wash the uniform at all. I hadn't sweat much in it, and the blood and cuts on it were… sacred to me somehow, becoming as integral to the uniform as the fabric was.

"Dave?" Mindy's voice brought me back to reality, and I realised I'd zoned out for a while. Returning to her wound, I wrapped a bandage over it and started driving her back home, much to her dismay.


	7. God's Face

**The Descent**

**Chapter 6: God's Face**

After dropping off Mindy back home, I was supposed to head back out and do my cardio regime, but something was bothering me. The Buzzard. As unspectacular as he was, he'd struck a match in me leading to my superhero powder keg. I'd been on hiatus (for the most part) for the past year, and now I had Mindy to look out for. I had to keep her out of everything even vaguely related to her past as Hit-Girl – To become Kick-Ass again would risk Mindy losing it again. Seeing me in costume might as well be a shortcut to her vendetta.

"Go to your room and rest, Mandy." I lead her gently in the direction of her room. She gave me a sweet smile, indicating her understanding. In the meantime, I had something else in mind, "Shower at 7 and come back to me for a new bandage, okay?"

"Okay…" Mindy replied in her usual meekness and went to her room.

I went into mine. I made sure the door was shut for what came next. Sitting behind my desk with my desktop computer before me, I started searching for superheroes who were still active. Unsurprisingly, the Buzzard was one of them. Then there was this scantily-clad woman with what looked like a modified pool cue, calling herself the Nightbitch. One of the most unconventional names I'd ever heard of. The next name that came up on Google was an African-American physics professor who calls himself Doctor Gravity. His logo was a white Rutherford-Bohr atom – I somehow remember that term in school – with 3 electron orbits around the nucleus. He seemed very serious about his role with his red-and-white uniform and what was introduced on his Facebook page as the Zero-G Device. It was silver and sleek with some pink LED and a matching glowing keypad near the handle. After some thoughts, I accepted it as a real device – with superheroes roaming the streets, everything else sure wasn't far off. Hey, it's already 2011.

Ever since Mindy was put in an asylum, I'd been a recluse to the Superhero world. I was always alone, even when there were talks on the internet about teaming up. I'd never watch the news for the past year, and I didn't even bother with the internet much. 'Superhero' was a word that disappeared from my list of search terms. Now that I feel like going back out there, I would have to start from the ground-up once again. I couldn't help but to think of Hit-Girl, and Big Daddy, and what could have been. I'd killed my own career as Kick-Ass, not that that was what I was thinking when the latter was burning alive. I couldn't help but to think that I had done more harm than good. The Father-and-Daughter duo would have been fine without me, especially Mindy. The innocent lives that had fallen to her insanity were blood on my hands just as much.

Looking around my room, I realised just how bare it was. Before Mindy came in, it was absolutely cluttered, the walls full of posters, the shelves comic-books Even the bed and floor was padded with them. Now, it was just a void. It was just brown walls and plaster. With all the extra time I had freed up from being a comic connoisseur, there was even time for me to do some spring cleaning. Now, my room resembled something out of a cheap motel. It was bare, Spartan without the muscles. Somehow, it became an imagery for where my life was heading. I didn't want it to be filled with nothing and regret. I didn't want it to be depressingly silent, lonely. _Kick-Ass it is_. I've decided officially there and then to make a comeback.

If Mandy had been Mindy, I would have tried teaming up with her, if she would even want to, considering that it was my fault she lost the ultimate team in the first place – her and her dad. Now, I would have to start scouting again, or, like Big Daddy and Hit-Girl, let them come to me. I reopened the superhero profiles.

There were no other superheroes on the first page. For the time being, they were the most talked-about of them all. Between the 3 of them though, I trusted Doctor Gravity the most. I'd already seen the Buzzard, and Nightbitch sounded… off. After refreshing the search page, I saw Hacksaw and The Enforcer, but they didn't look like team players. They must have read either Batman or The Punisher.

_Doctor Gravity, hands down_. I sent him a message on Facebook, told him my intentions about meeting up. It wasn't as easy as I first thought it would be. I had to get into the Kick-Ass feel again, and my message had to be awesome enough to reflect that. The last few forum entries and chat I saw of Kick-Ass were of people remembering me as the first who started it. It was historically untrue, as Mindy and her father were already kicking Mafia ass big-time, but it was close enough. Somehow, my message had to reflect that. I became engrossed with that one message when…

"Dave… I'm done showering. My knee still hurts." The door swung open, and Mindy came in. I jumped before closing my laptop quickly. Looking at where Mindy was, I could tell from the angle she looked at me that she could have seen what was on my screen. Thankfully, she could have only seen it for a brief moment, but it didn't make me feel any better. The eye is a powerful thing – especially Mindy's. Even if she was practically deprogrammed by Dr Paul, I wasn't sure if his procedure had reached the way she used her eyesight back then.

"You forgot to knock, Mandy." I said, making sure I was calm this time. I'd done enough bad brother routine for the day. I hate seeing her cry – It reminded me of everything that happened, everything I did wrong, everything that went wrong for her... That was her superpower now, and my Kryptonite.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" She apologised. She didn't cry, but she was giving me the look of a kid in trouble, as if she'd just smashed a window or something. To put it into perspective though, my dad and I made knocking on the door to someone's room a huge deal – we figured it as a safeguard for Mindy whenever we decide to experience the luxury that we could no longer have lying around with her in the family.

"It's fine, Mandy, it really is!" I tried to lighten the mood, "Go sit on my bed and I'll fix you up." She smiled awkwardly, still recovering from making her mistake, and went to my bed, "Do you want a Barbie bandage or Hello Kitty?" I'd bought those for her just in case.

"Hello Kitty!" Mindy exclaimed excitedly, all seriousness forgotten.

**Later that Night…**

Sneaking out of my room, I peeked into Mindy's to make sure she was asleep, and sure enough, she was there, tucked in by my dad. She's had a pillow over her eyes. It wasn't the first time. When I asked her about it a few days ago, she said it was for covering her eyes, as she was a little afraid of sleeping alone. I was surprised that she hadn't asked to sleep in with me or my dad – at least in that way, her courage wasn't entirely lost. Her room was still a dull brown. Dad had already bought the paint, but we hadn't done the painting. We'd already planned something for it, but that would be in the weekends.

Going further down the corridor, I unlocked the hatch to the attic and went up to my treasure trove. The attic was hardly ever cleared up, and as a result there were stacks of boxes as high as the roof, some of which had fallen over. Memories were stored up here, like my comic books and figurines. But something else wasn't going to remain a memory for long…

It took me a while to figure out where I'd put my Kick-Ass costume, but it came back to me quick enough. At the other end of the attic from where I was, my life-long collection had a corner to itself, a huge corner. A whole bookshelf of comics, and leaning on it was the luggage. Dialing the passcode, I opened it up, and there inside, it lay: A pair of yellow gloves and boots, the scuba suit that had stayed with me for quite a while, the helmet, utility belt and vest. I had a pair of tasers. _Oh dude, that is one gay looking taser..._ A ghost whispered into my ear, the ghost of Mindy's past.

Then there's the batons – I could never forget the batons. Taking the sticks up, I was mesmerised by my own weapon, I had to touch it. The batons had clunked the head of many a villains. Yet, I also remembered – it was used on me and Big Daddy, back when we were nearly executed. _Never again_, a side of my head thought. _Yeah, of course, because Big Daddy's dead,_ the other side countered. There was still blood on the green batons – It was Mindy's blood, when I took her down in a combo. I remembered it all so clearly…

_Like a reflex, I swung my baton against her just above the waist. I was even able to surprise myself when she stumbled in that direction._

_'That's it' I thought, 'this is my ticket out. This is everyone's ticket out.' I was encouraged, and I swung my baton against her again. This time it landed just below her left armpit. I could hear a crack- it was either my weapon or her rib, "That was for Michael!" There was only one way to find out._

_Like some fighter in a weird martial arts video game, I was doing a combo- I went for another swipe in the opposite direction, winding myself up fully, "And that was for Aldan!"_

_Demoness could not react at all before the stick connected with the side of her head and, as if we were in some Chinese movie, she spun in mid-air from the force I exerted on her before landing on the hard ground, finally floored, "That- that was for Mindy!"_

I found out too late that Demoness was Mindy. After brutalising her with my batons, I wasn't done yet with my stupidity. I started interrogating her. Got angry when I thought she wouldn't tell, and it went out of hand. Before I saw past her disguise, I threatened her with a pistol, I'd pistol whipped her twice, choked her to within an inch of her last breath. I'd punched her in the guts a few times, slammed her against walls, slapped her, and kicked her a painful many times. I hurt her so bad – broke a few bones, bled her out. Had Mindy died that day, I would have joined her, no questions asked.

"Oh, Mindy… I'm so sorry for everything…" I whispered, feeling an old friend creeping down my cheeks as I was hugging my batons, hugging Mindy's year-old dried blood. I looked at my main weapons again – and held them tighter, "Never again." I promised myself that I wouldn't make the same mistakes again.

**A while later…**

I did the usual rounds, walking the beat, except I knew vaguely where the hotspots were. As I was just out of retirement again, I decided to just avoid the hotspots for the day. But who am I kidding? Of course I went for the hotspots!

But even the hotspots were quieter these days. With the whole city cowboying up and even producing superheroes like Marvel, muggers and pervs were having a run for their money, at least at first. Knowing human nature, crime would surely go off the charts once things'd reached a new equilibrium. I knew I was stubborn, always going back into my wet suit. It won't take long for the bad guys to reach for their knives once again, and that's why we still have superhero comic books even after humanity's been at it for a million years.

For an hour or two, all I did was to attract smiles and encouragement. At least I knew the people wanted me back. I was hi-fiving so many times, my arms were starting to ache even before I'd taken down my first villain of the night. At least I knew I'd need to do some upper body exercises so I could hi-five and fight crime more.

Another hour or two passed. My feet were getting sore – I'd need to get used to foot patrols again. There was no crime to be fought tonight. Still, I wasn't discouraged. Sure, the fall of the D'Amico empire has had every criminal lying low and superheroes popping up, but the Mindy… Demoness'd done quite some damage to the police force to balance it out. To get to Detective Gigante for collaborating with Frank D'Amico, she massacred police officers in their own headquarters. To get to Angie D'Amico and her lieutenants, she went through an army of police officers, again. As Demoness, Mindy was a force of nature, and she left the NYPD demoralised. Some officers ended up quitting; others migrated to other services, such as the fire department or hospitals, and there weren't enough freckle-faced new recruits joining, even after all that free advertisements superheroes like me gave. I can't say I blame them though. You don't get almost a hundred dead police officers within the space of hours every day. It must have felt like the end of times for them.

After the clock struck 3 without someone striking me, I knew it was time to knock off.

…

"-ROBIIIIIIIIIIIIIN'S REVEEEEEEEENNNNNGE!" No no no no no please not this again so much pain!

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! " Why? Why? Why? Oh why? The pain throbs it throbs bad stop please…

STOP! NO!

I struggled awake – it was horrible. I couldn't help but to sit up. It was so scary that I was clammy with sweat. I woke up with tears on my face. Why do I get these nightmares? They were so scary.

Dave stood at my door. He was watching me, and he looked worried. He always does. He quickly came to me, and it made me feel better already, knowing that he was there for me.

I wish I could remember everything before the bus accident, so that I could remember everything about Dave, everything about what he'd done for me. He's the best big brother in the world, even though he scolds me and made me cry sometimes.

"Same nightmare?" Dave asked me as he sat down beside me. I nodded, trying hard not to cry. I wanted to make him proud, "What was it about? You weren't clear the last time."

"I don't remember." I thought hard about my nightmare, but all I could remember was darkness, explosions and shouting. One of them was very loud and sounds familiar. Then I remembered something. It don't understand what it meant at all, "Ro- something… Ro-bin… Someone screamed Robin…"

"You were having a nightmare about a little bird?" Dave explained. He was smiling as he was wiping away my sweat and tears with his hand.

"No!" He was making fun of me! I'm not afraid of a bird! I felt so misunderstood – it didn't feel like a small bird. It felt like something else, something that wasn't a bird. I didn't know how to explain it to Dave.

"Well, whatever it was, don't think about it and it'll just go away." Dave said. I tried listening to him, but I can't stop thinking about the nightmare. Why does it keep coming back? I hate it so much! I couldn't help but to cry a bit again. Then Dave hugged me. I love it when he does that, "Go take a bath alright, Mandy? You'll feel better after that." He stood up. I miss him hugging me already.

"And if that doesn't, I'm sure breakfast will. I'm cooking today." He continued. I smiled. I had never tasted his cooking before, but I know it would be tasty. He walked out of the room, but before he went away, he said something else, "Oh, and by the way, I'm taking you out for some shopping after breakfast."

Taking a new set of dress, the best that Daddy bought, I went to the bathroom. I love to take a bath, especially when the water's hot. I just wish I didn't have these scars on my body. When I looked at the way other girls dress, I wish I could dress like them, but I need to hide the white lines. I wish they would disappear soon. I hate them so much!

Walking out of my room and into the corridor outside my room, I went to the bathroom. When I was about to lock the door, I thought I saw someone at the other end of the corridor. I thought he had a moustache, and blonde hair like me. But when I opened the door totally again, he was gone. I guess it must have been Dave. He was near his room anyway.

Dave was right. The bath did help. I knew he would be right. He knew how to take care of me. I can't dress like the rest of the girls in class, but at least I have Dave! I could always hear those girls hating their family, calling them names just like they called me names.

I took my bath quickly. I was excited to go shopping with Dave! I don't remember the last time I did shopping. Have I ever shopped with Dave before? I bet I must have.

When I'm down at the kitchen, Dad and Dave were still cooking. I guess I was a little too fast, I guess. "Oh, Mandy!" Dave said. He was cooking and talking to me at the same time, "That was quick! You need to slow down sometimes. How long did you take? 5 minutes?" I didn't even realise I was that fast. I guess I was excited about shopping.

I sat at the dinner table for a while. I like being with my brother and father. I like watching them cook together. It makes me happy that we're together. When they were done, they set the dish before me. "Blueberry pancakes!" Blue, like my school bag and some of my clothes. I see blue all the time. Maybe I should ask for pink next, to match the blue.

"Bon appétit!" Dad said. They set down their own dishes and the forks and knives. Then there was orange juice from the fridge. I love orange juice!

Before we started eating, we prayed to God again. Dad called it the 'Lord's Prayer'. Dad and Dave did it seriously, so I followed them. Putting my hands together and closing my eyes, I repeated after dad.

"Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name." Dave and I prayed in unison. I imagined a castle on the clouds. But what does God looked like? I thought I saw him as I said the prayer. I saw blonde hair and moustache. A pair of big spectacles. Was that how God looked like? "Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven."

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors." I couldn't help but to keep thinking about that face. It was beautiful. But was he forgiving? That thought suddenly came into my mind. Yet, it was a kind and caring face, like Dad and Dave's.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." But when I saw that face, I knew that God would deliver us from evil. "Amen."

I took my fork and knife. I couldn't wait to taste Dad and Dave's blueberry pancakes. But before I could do that, my left hand started shaking again. It was holding the knife. Why does that keep happening? Then Dave looked at me… with that look.

"Do you want me to help cut your pancakes again, Mandy?" Dad offered, but I didn't want to bother him so much.

"It's fine, Dad, thanks." My hand with the knife was shaking, but I tried cutting my pancake that way. Why does it keep shaking? My left hand felt weak. The fingers felt weak. I couldn't cut a piece and I had to put down the knife. So frustrating! Dave looks worried when he saw it all happening.

"You sure you're fine?" Dad asked again. I didn't want to bother him, so I told him I'm fine. I started cutting with my fork. It worked out okay, I guess.

"Good thinking, Mandy." Dave praised me. I smiled at him. I love it when he does that. We ate in silence for a bit, but it was the happy sort of silence. But I had to tell them about what I saw.

"Dad, Dave." I started, but I didn't know how to say it. I looked at the table as I was thinking. I don't know why I keep doing that. They said it was fine, that I was shy and timid by nature, ever since the day I was born, "I think I saw God just now when we were saying the Lord's Prayer."

"Well, how does he look like?" Dad asked. He looks very interested. Hadn't he seen God before? I thought it would happen to everyone when they said the Lord's Prayer.

I had to close my eyes and think of the face so that I could remember. "He had blonde hair, moustache and a big pair of spectacles." I said, "He had a beautiful face."

"Huh." Dad uttered as he took another bite of blueberry pancakes. He sounded a little surprised. Dave still looked worried. My poor brother… He's always caring about me. I should learn to take care of him too, "That's interesting, because God's normally bearded and white-haired. I don't remember spectacles."

"Maybe you could ask the pastor about it tomorrow." Dad continued. What's a pastor?

"We're going to a church tomorrow?" Dave asked. He sounded surprised.

"Yep." Dad said, "We sure are, buddy." Dave still looked surprised. Don't we go to a church all the time? Before the bus accident? "How about that, Mandy? How do you like going to church?"

"I'd love to!" I exclaimed. It feels exciting – I'd get to ask the pastor about God's face.


	8. A Bitter Taste

**The Descent**

**Chapter 7: A Bitter Taste**

"Hello? Is this Dr Paul?" I said over the phone as I was pacing around the porch at the front. Mindy was still in the living room, as I've asked her to wait inside while I made the call.

"Yes. Dave Lizewski? Is something wrong?" The voice on the other line replied. He sounded calm. It was all routine to him. On the other side of the line, I was always on the edge of my seat.

"Yeah, it's about Mindy." I said, my voice quivering a bit. I couldn't help it. _No shit, buddy, there's a million things wrong with Mindy_, "She's been having nightmares. Every day. The pills aren't working. I think she's remembering stuff through the nightmares. She mentioned 'Robin'. But I don't think she knows what it means."

"Robin? As in Batman's Robin? That Robin?" The psychiatrist said before pausing, sighing a bit, "Those pills are the strongest I have in my pharmacy. Let me think. The best I could do is to prescribe even more, so she'll be on drugs longer. If Robin is all she could remember, then I'd say it's working very well, very thoroughly. All I need from you now is to keep doing this. I know it's hard on you, but-"

"I must do what's best for Mindy. I know, doc." I agreed, even though I felt split in my opinion. A primal part of me was wishing her back very badly. Yet at the same time, I didn't want her to become Demoness again. I could become _The Hulk_ over this anytime; it was the ultimate torture, "There's one other thing. Her hand shakes every time she holds a knife at the dinner table. What's up with that?"

"Did I mention that I deconstructed and reconstructed her personality, her psyche? That I removed everything that was violent?" The doctor explained. I didn't like where this was going. I hate opening cans of worms, "I replaced her acceptance of violence with a subconscious inhibition towards violence. She doesn't know it, but the shakes are a sign of her mind rejecting violence, and implements – weapons that could lead to violence. She won't be holding a gun for decades to come. Her problem with a dinner table knife is a minor trade off."

"Wait, are you saying this is permanent?" I was shocked. It was even worse than I expected. Sure, it would be fine if it continues for a few years, but decades? Until the day she kicks the bucket? In a world like this, I could envision the need for her to defend herself when she grows up, and it doesn't even have to be related to her being Hit-Girl, and by the time she grows up, wouldn't the memories of her past life as Mindy Macready, Hit-Girl and Demoness fade away enough for her to live a normal life again? For her to do whatever she wants? "You… you mindfucked her!" I didn't even dare to shout my profanity tagline, in case Mindy could hear me through the door.

"I KNOW it's a drastic measure. Draconian even." The doctor's patience was wearing thin too, I could feel it, but he'd only allow himself half a moment to show it, "But her case was drastic, do you not agree? She took nearly a hundred lives that night, Dave." I hated it when Dr Paul uses that card. There was no way I could counter that, "Look, there's no guarantee that it's permanent. The human mind is an unpredictable thing, the brain an enigmatic organ. It's just as likely that she would beat the inhibition by the time she's 20, or 22, when she is mature enough, when she understands the horror and consequences of violence…"

I didn't reply. How could I? The doctor was right, and he was the one in the thick of it for a whole year with Mindy. He broke his arm, risked his life to cure her, even if his solution wasn't exactly ideal nor likable. Then there was me, the person who started it all. I stayed silent, and I think he got the picture, "Look, I believe it's time I pay a visit to Mindy." It was funny how we were all still referring to Mindy by her old name, when her real identity was all but gone, confined to the recesses of her unconscious, the recycle bin of her mind, and that recycle bin was due anytime to be emptied whenever her mind was ready.

In the end, I told him that he could come 2 hours later, when Mindy and I would be home after shopping at a nearby mall. I opened the front door and stood half-way into the living room, "Hey Mandy, it's time to go!" Upon hearing me, she leapt excitedly off the couch, running towards me in her cute, sky blue dress and her ballet slipper type shoes. I stared at her as she came towards me. I could still remember her in her Hit-Girl costume. The purple tights, checker patterned skirt, the cape flapping as she ran, the mask. I couldn't imagine her in a dress and ballet slippers, but then I didn't have to. She was there dressed as a normal, if very feminine and sweet, girl whether I like it or not.

We took a cab to the mall. I figured she needed the royal treatment. Not to mention, I didn't want to stress her too much. I would need to soften her, pamper her a bit, as per the doctor's prescription. That would get her as far away from her past as Hit-Girl as anything could ever.

At the mall, I was constantly worried about what might attract her attention. I had to constantly steer her away from what I thought might be a disaster. I had to hold her close and control her, without her knowing. Past a few restaurants, a sporting shop appeared, with guns and gear that Big Daddy's Mindy would love to ogle over. I couldn't stop her. "Dave, what's that? Can I go see that shop?" It was like a Mindy magnet, and even in her amnesiac state it was still attracting her somehow.

"Urm… no, Mandy. That's a very bad place." I was pulling shit out of my ass. I was desperately searching for a shop to attract her attention, "Let's go to Toys R' Us instead. I'm sure you'd want toys instead, don't you?"

"Why is there a bad place in the mall?" She quizzed, as any girl her age would. Admittedly, it was a hard question to answer, considering that the 'bad place' wasn't that bad in the beginning. She was still looking at the sporting shop. I hurried my pace, and she followed suit. From a distance, it was a little hard to make out the L-shape of guns on display, especially those in black and brown, but with Mindy I wasn't sure. I could only desperately hope that she didn't pick them out, but her sudden shivering answered my question. I had to tell her one truth or the other.

"Because it's not a perfect world, Mandy." It was the best I could do. The sporting shop disappeared out of our sight soon enough, and Mindy stopped shivering. The conversation didn't continue, but I knew she would understand. It wouldn't even take a residual memory for her to. Her experience in school sure wasn't the best.

Even the Toys R' Us wasn't safe. I had to make a wide circle around the boy's section. It was like a lesson in practical philosophy, if such a thing existed, and I've learnt plenty: Violence, as it turns out, was deeply ingrained in society. I had taken that for granted. Even the good guys use violence – was it really such a bad thing? While I'm out shopping with Mindy, the only thing I knew was it was bad for her. I had to make a wide circle around the nerf guns, super-soakers and Gundams. I guess I could only be thankful that it was easy with Toys R' Us. Everything was arranged by gender, age and toy types, so it was easy to put her in the middle of Polly Pockets, Barbie Dolls and teddy bears without ever seeing a John Rambo action figure with his giant machinegun. As much as I would like to see Hit-Girl with a machinegun, I wouldn't want to see Demoness gunning down hundreds with it.

It wasn't any easier even in a girl's clothes store. She was always reaching for something pink or purple, or even green, which could remind her of the military. I had to get creative…

"No, not green. It looks like someone vomited on it." I said it with my most disagreeing voice possible when she picked that green 3-quarter pants. A look of disgust quickly spread on her face, and she returned the pants back on display. She reached for the purple version, "No, not that. You'll look like _Barney the Dinosaur_, or the _Blob_."

Mindy was only interested in the pants section for some reason, looking to try out anything from a pair of full-length jeans to cargo pants, but at least her interest in hot pants was feminine enough, "Why do you want a pair of jeans, Mandy? They'd make you look… rough." Though inside, I was going haywire with her emerging tomboyish tastes.

"But Dave! My wardrobe's full of dresses!" She complained and was practically begging for her jeans, so I had to compromise a bit. In the end, she won her pair of denim jeans (on the condition that it was light blue and not green or black). It was harder than a game of chess, and I was getting worried, because Mindy was beating me in it even without noticing.

It certainly wasn't any easier with her tastes in shoes. It was impossible to keep her eyes on the high-heels, pumps and slingbacks. She'd just go back to the boots eventually, even when I got the shop assistant in on the act. Well, at least she bought a pair of slingbacks in addition to a pair of brownish military imitation boots. Dr Paul won't be impressed. "Well, I'm glad you're happy, Mandy."

**Later…**

The house was deathly silent when we got back from our shopping trip. Dad was supposed to be there, but I couldn't hear anything from the sidewalk. Opening the boot of the cab, I helped Mindy with her shopping bags. Clothes, not to mention I bought for her this huge teddy bear named 'Big Teddy' who was almost her size but wider and it was black with a yellow ribbon around its neck. Out of the many toys available at Toys R' Us, she'd picked this particular teddy bear. It looked familiar somehow. She insisted on carrying Big Teddy on her own, so I was stuck with her shopping bags.

I struggled to open the front door with my keys while Mindy was similarly struggling up the stairs to the front door. When I finally got it open, I made way for her to enter first. The living room was suitably dark, just as it was all planned. "Be careful Mandy, you might hit someone." I said as I locked the front door. It was all going according to plan…

"Who?" As expected, she asked confusingly as she squinted her eyes, almost seeing something over the shoulder of Big Teddy… which was when I switched on the lights, revealing what was ahead of her.

"Surprise!" A cacophony of voices shouted. Mindy let her Big Teddy slip and fall on its bum, a look of utter surprise and some shock on her face. A smile came on slowly soon after.

My best friends Todd and Marty was there, flanking my father. Pete, Mindy's solitary friend in school, was flanking him the other way, standing beside Dr Paul, who arrived earlier than expected. The coffee table was stacked with presents packed in wrappers of varying shades of blue. A similarly coloured cake with 11 candles sat next to the presents, but the candles were small, their blades of flame peaceful and fragile – something most of us hope Mindy would be. Well, maybe not that fragile.

"Happy belated birthday, Mandy!" Dad shouted, his voice more reserved than anything. Everything went according to plan. There were streamers and balloons near the ceiling. The kitchen table was stocked with food and drinks. Soon, we were singing the birthday song to her, and watching her unwrapping her presents while everyone else was either egging her on or taking pictures. With the way Mindy lived back in the day when she was Hit-Girl, this would not have been possible – Mindy had never been to school until after Marcus took responsibility of her, and Big Daddy didn't look like the next door neighbour type. No matter how much I wished Mindy had her identity intact without her _Dark Phoenix_ half lurking somewhere in her mind, I was glad she got to enjoy the traditional birthday party.

Todd and Marty were able to pool together some dough – they'd bought her a few collections of the latest pop songs. Justin Bieber, Lady GaGa, Union J, Rihanna, you name it. Pete got her a toy car despite my instructions to get her something exclusively for girls, but it was fair enough. At least it wasn't a model M16 or something. Dad bought her a necklace. Silver chains and a heart. Mindy loved it especially. She was absolutely ecstatic when dad helped her put it on. It was the same look as that time when she was taking down Rasul and his fellow drug dealers, the same ecstatic look when we first met…

"Here Mandy, you've more than earned your happiness, your bliss, sweet child." Dr Paul said as he was handing his contribution to Mindy, a thin box wrapper in yellow. Mindy flashed a quick smile before unwrapping it meticulously, as she usually does. She didn't like to tear the wrappers like many kids do. It could have been part of the doctor's treatment. Opening the box and pulling out the carrier, she realised that it was a watch with a golden frame with yellow Spongebob Squarepants straps, "So you could tell the time, and be free from it." I overheard him saying, though I'm unsure of what he meant by 'it' – was it time or her mental illnesses? When Mindy thanked him, he replied, "No, thank you, you can't imagine how much you've helped me too."

The doctor took up his cup of tea again. I waited for him to finish – my heart was pounding. I didn't know what he was talking about – what did Mindy help him with? Now that I've become Kick-Ass again, my paranoia was stronger than ever. Can't be helped. I pulled the doctor aside as soon as I was able, to express my concern, "Doc, what were you talking about back there?" Before he started explaining, he lead me back out to the porch again. I could sense that something was up.

"Mindy was – is an interesting case." The doctor started, "She is a specimen like nothing I have ever seen before, a combination of accidents, circumstances, upbringing and intrinsic traits so astronomically rare that its effects were like nothing anyone has seen before. While I was treating her, I was chronicling my findings at the same time. I call it the 'Demoness Complex'. Half the treatment package for it is under my name too. It might win me the Nobel prize." I didn't have a ready answer for that at the time. I was relieved at first, as I was worried he might be up to something… criminal, especially if it was related to the mob. Yet at the same time, what he did was a little too clandestine. Still, I'm putting it down to him just doing his job and me not watching him 24/7.

"Congratulations." I said. It was all I could think of.

"Thank you, Dave." He said appreciatively, though it was hard to tell as he was very formal, "Now, I've left more medicine in your cabinet. Expenses are still paid for by Aldan himself." Dr Paul reminded me of the Grandmaster, that old man. Aldan Bonitus, the medieval arts schoolteacher and sword master who helped me subdue Mindy in her feral, insane Demoness Complex state. For almost a year now, we hadn't stayed in contact. Now that I'm returning back on the street as Kick-Ass, I feel a sudden need to meet him again – who knows? He could still be out there in the streets, having decided to be a superhero himself. He certainly dressed, fought and acted like one, even if it was unintended. "And I noticed the kind of clothes you are allowing her to wear, Dave." As she was unwrapping the presents, she was showing what I bought for her as well.

"Oh, that." I remarked guiltily, I couldn't help but to look elsewhere as a result, "It's just one set, doctor."

"Yes, it is. It's a minor, minute thing. Just don't graduate it into something bigger, such as, oh, say, letting her shoot a rifle in a gun range?" The doctor's change in inflection was just as minute, but I understood just as much. He was a little cynical about my performance as Mindy's adoptive brother. Actually, I was too, a little, myself, "Don't compound it either. The effects of even negligible stimulants like these could be a problem if you introduce them too often."

"Hey, alright, I got it." My eyes were darting around a bit before I dare to look him in the eyes. I could tell that he wasn't very impressed with me so far.

"This is serious, Dave. I've been observing her, and for now, Mindy is fine, in tip-top condition, but if that changes the next time I check, she might need another stay at Jameson. We can't risk another massacre." He continued, and I couldn't help but to feel threatened and afraid for Mindy. A psychiatric hospital is no place for a kid, and Mindy had already spent a year inside. Another year would ruin her life, set her back too much. Then there was the experimental procedure the doctor developed – I doubt I could do this all over again if the doctor decides to hit the reset button in Mindy's brain again. Already, I could feel myself splitting at the seams, manipulating and lying to Mindy all the time, even if it was all for a good cause. "Which is why I left some hypothermic needles and sedatives in the cabinet. If you suspect a relapse, I need you to inject her with it and call me down, do you understand?"

Everything Dr Paul said on the porch left a bitter taste in my mouth.


	9. Old and New Friends

**The Descent**

**Chapter 8: Old and New Friends**

Today's Sunday is an unusual one, the first of its kind in a long, long time. We hadn't been to church for years, even long before my mother died. I remembered church as a kid, but not as a teenager. And as a common kid who read comic books and dress up as Spider-man, I hated church. I thought it was boring. Now, it was a time for me to be with my family, which now had Mindy in tow. With Mindy around, life was never boring, although sometimes it was too much of an excitement with her around. The church would be the safest place possible for Mindy's mental health, or at least that's the general knowledge.

Me and my dad were new, so we couldn't get into their groove as much. We met a few people, sat with them, but when it came to the praise and worship, we stood stock still, awkward. We were the traditional type, having been out of the league for too long. Mindy, on the other hand, was just shy, so she joined us in doing nothing. She was furthermore cowed by the active crowd.

The only moment I could really remember was the testimonial bit. For that, the pastor invited on stage a guy with an Italian name too complicated for me to remember. When he came on stage, he was in a navy blue suit with grey tie, but what was above his suit reminded me of a military guy with his seasoned face and well-trimmed and well combed hair that was only beginning to bald. It touched neither his forehead nor his ears, or even the back of his neck. He had some facial hair which was as grey as his hair. As he smiled, two of his teeth gleamed, not from hygiene habits, but because they were silver prosthetics. He looked like he'd seen quite a bit of action, but the last I heard, bullets won't just knock out your teeth when you were shot in the mouth. His teeth reminded me more of a brawler.

"Boy do I have a story for you guys." The military guy offered, his Italian accent there but quite light and barely noticeable. He was perpetually smiling, breaking the military impression he had on me. He was far too casual to be a veteran, but then again I was being shallow. "Now some of you may already know who I am, but for the benefit of the newcomers… I've been in here for a year now." He took a sip from a glass of water placed at the podium, as if what came next was a huge challenge, a difficult thing to say.

"I used to be lead a life of sinful crime, roughing people up, extorting for the devil's spawn on Earth. I took a few lives for him, that devil. Some good, some rotten, but God's children all the same, and the devil would get me out of jail to kill again." He seemed a little beefy under his suit. With that and his Italian accent, he reminded me of the stereotypical gangster in mafia movies. Looking around back to Mindy to check how this was treating her, I saw that she was relatively fine, if a little frightened by the bare mention of hurting and killing people – Military guy's choice of words were fine so far with nothing explicit. It gave me a little confidence for the church, "Then she came, this girl who might well be God's miracle. How else could the tower of babel fall like that? Many called her the-" Before he said the name, I rushed to cover Mindy's ears. She didn't object and I appreciated the trust she puts in me. We looked and smiled at each other.

"Demoness, and rightly so, because she'd sent many innocent souls to heaven, but at the same time, this… Divine Sword of God tore down the Tower of Babel, delivered justice where there was none." It was all sounding all too familiar, the only shocker being just how religious it could be made to sound, "And I was spared for some reason. Took a bullet to the chest, but I was spared."

Thunderous claps. Me and my family clapped along. I had plenty of good reasons to – his survival meant one less notch on Mindy's subconscious, or Demoness' swords. Not to mention, he was one less criminal to deal with, if he was really Born Again. And he was proof that there was still some good left in this world. He took another sip from his glass of water. I could see that he was suddenly conscious about his stomach.

"And here I am, after eating a ton of jell-o in hospital for a month." There were some giggles and laughter, "I knew I was born again even before I came here. I had lots of time to think about that. God has a plan for me. I know he does, because I've been having a little chat with him."

**After the service…**

While the crowd was dispersing, starting to talk amongst themselves, Dad was holding hands with Mindy, going up to the front, to the stage. I was walking beside her. We looked like a happy family, even if it was incomplete with my mom out of the picture. Picture this: Dad was in a brown suit and I was in a grey one, with Mindy standing between us, in a formal black dress and shoes with a cardigan over that.

We brought Mindy to the pastor, so she could ask her burning question, the one she'd been going non-stop about. When we were at the foot of the stage, Mindy grew a bit shy and in awe of the stage and the ceiling-high cross up front. We had to egg her on. As we were new, the pastor noticed us immediately after finishing a chat with a couple.

"New guests! Welcome, welcome indeed!" The pastor, a man in a black suit who was hardly wrinkled despite his age, was a highly animated man. He was spreading his arm, as if to hug the whole bunch of us, at one moment and then shaking our hands the next, "Pastor Harkman, at your service! What can I do you for?"

"Yeah, my daughter's got a question for you." Dad said, straight to the point. Sure, he was always that way with me, but I was never sure if he does the same to everybody. It seemed likely now that I've seen how he talked to the pastor.

"And who might you be, missy?" The pastor crouched down at the edge of his stage, and even then, he was still taller than Mindy.

"Man-Mandy Lizewski." Mindy replied nervously. It'd been a week and she had yet to beat her stutter. She's had me convinced that it was something that would take months, if not years, and that's not including the other problems Dr Paul had given her: Clumsiness and… dumbness, "May I ask you my question?"

"Sure, go right ahead, little miss!" The pastor said excitedly as he stroked her head affectionately, reminding me of the way Kindergarten teachers would talk to her flock. Mindy pursed her lips a bit, she looked like she'd been overwhelmed by his enthusiasm.

"W-well, I was praying yesterday. I think it was the 'Lord's Prayer'?" Mindy went on with her story. The pastor nodded attentively. Like I said: Kindergarten school teacher, "While I was saying the prayers, I saw a face. It had…" And again, just like yesterday, she closed her eyes so that she could envision the face again, "blonde hair and moustache, and a pair of big spectacles. Is he God?"

"That's a brilliant question, Mandy!" The pastor said animatedly, sounding like he was pleasantly surprised, "Well, you see, God could appear in many forms. Did he say anything?"

"No…" Mindy replied, shaking her head.

"What do you feel when you see his face?" At this, he seemed to have toned down a bit, either from tiredness or professionalism.

"I feel… I feel…" Mindy had to close her eyes again, to think. I had no idea if that had anything to do with Dr Paul, "Loved. Like he'll protect me, like Daddy and Dave!"

"Ah, then he could be God! But we'll have to wait and see what he says, Mandy, because there are other things in this world other than God." The pastor continued. Even without going to the church for, like, a decade, I knew what he was driving at, "Such as the devil. He's the bad guy. So if he says anything that feels wrong, or asks you to do something that didn't feel right, pray for the real God to appear, alright darling?"

"Yes, Pastor Harkman…" Mindy replied in her usual child's way. She seemed to be taking the devil business well, so I saw no reason to intervene. I'd known a long time ago that her illness wasn't that sensitive, otherwise she would be stuck in the closet. Doesn't stop me from being on edge though – It feels like I could actually lose weight from just worrying about her alone. After her burning question was answered, Mindy's mind began to wander, and she set her eyes on the knee rests just before the stage, before the cross, where people would kneel down and pray. The Italian guy who was giving his testimonial was already there, preparing to kneel down before the cross.

"Can I pray some more? I wanna see his face again!" She asked excitedly. The pastor looked thrilled, with his wide eyes and fatherly smile. I could relate – after all, there weren't many kids who professed to loving prayers and church. The only person of my age in this church I knew was myself. Marty and Todd weren't churchgoers themselves – their religion revolves around reading comics, attending comic cons and debating about the sexual orientation of their favourite heroes. Katie Deauxma… goes to the needle exchange, no church, and her friends stuck with her.

When Mindy scooted for a prayer, we didn't follow – I wanted to, to look out for her, but dad decided that she needed some quality time on her own, since she'd been with us 99% of the time.

**At The Prayer Area…**

I was excited! I knew from the bottom of my heart that I'd get to see the face again! God! So I skipped to where everyone else was praying, and I followed what they did. I knelt down and put my hands together. But I didn't know what to say.

I looked around at Dave and Daddy, but they were busy talking to the others in church. So I looked the other way, and there was this man who was on the stage earlier. He was just beside me, looking at the cross. He wasn't praying. I wanted to ask him for help, but I was afraid to. He looked big, and tough.

But I didn't need to! He saw that I was looking at him, and he turned to look down at me. At first, I was scared. I thought I did something wrong, but he just smiled down at me.

"Oh, new kid!" He said. He had a funny way of saying things. He didn't sound like the rest of us. He seemed happy to see me. Everyone was happy to see me, like Pastor Harkman. "Whatsamatter? You need help with something?"

I was a little afraid that anyone who heard would laugh at me, so I had to whisper it to him. He had to bend low to listen to me. I feel a little guilty for doing that. I whispered to him: "Could you teach me how to pray to God? I would like to see him again."

"Sure thing, kid." He didn't seem to mind at all. He seemed nice after that, and no longer mean looking. His teeth still looked a little scary though, "Now, just put your hands together. It's a sign of respect." I did it like he said. It was exciting! I'll get to see God again soon! "And look at the cross." So I looked at the cross.

"Now, just listen to my prayer, then you'll follow after me, okay kid?" I said okay, and he went on with his own prayer first. He closed his eyes and bowed his head a little, "Dear God, I come before you today to thank you for your guidance. Please bless me for what comes next, so that I may bring justice to New York, just as you brought justice down upon the D'Amico tower – twice now, I might add. Thank you and in your name, Amen."

I still couldn't understand what to do, then there was what he said… What he said… _D'Amico Tower… D'Amico Tower… D'Amico Tower…_ Sounds like… Something I… I… Can't think… Can't think straight…

"Your turn, kid. Now, it's your prayer, sweetheart, so you get to say whatever you want." The nice big man said. What happened to me just now? I went back to listening to him, but I was still confused. He seemed to know that by just looking at me, "Just be humble and good okay? Remember, God is a person with feelings too." I couldn't follow what he was saying. What happened to me just now?

"C'mon, let me lead you in." The nice big man finally said. He touched my shoulder, and it stopped me from thinking about what happened just now. I followed what he said, "Dear God…"

"Dear God," I repeated after him. He started giving me clues. It was just like school, but more fun and friendly! I started praying with his help! "I want to thank you for saving me from the bus accident, and taking me back to my family. Thank you for giving me the best daddy in the world, and Dave, the best big brother in the world. I would be a happy girl if I get to see you again. Thank you, and in your name, Amen."

When I was done, I opened my eyes again. I saw that the nice, big man was looking at me in a sort of weird way. "You know, there seem to be something 'bout you, kid. You're kind of familiar." I stared at him in the eyes. I find it easier to look at, but I don't remember him. Why does everyone keep saying that? Principle Dixon said that, and now this man too. Yet Dave said that I had never met Mrs Dixon before.

"I- I don't know you, mister." I didn't know what to say. I looked away, because it was getting harder to look at him in the eyes.

"Nah, I think I'm just getting on in the years. I've seen a lot of kids in my time. Sorry, sweetheart." The nice, big man said. Mrs Dixon said that too, "My name's Sal Bertolinni by the way. It's nice to meet you." He held up his hand. It was huge! I was scared at first, but I didn't want to be rude. I shook his hand, and he was very gentle.

"I'm Mandy… Mandy Lizewski. Do you… want to be friends?" I can't help but to be a little shy and ashamed to ask at first, but I did. He was old and I was young, so it seems strange for us to be friends. But Daddy and Dave were like friends to me too, except they were also my family, so why can't Sal be my friend?

"I would love to, Mandy." He didn't wait to say yes. I'm so, so happy! I made another friend! He didn't stay for long though. I wish he would. After looking at his watch, he said, "Well, look at how the time runs! There's something I need to do, so I'll see you next week." He waved goodbye and left.

**An Hour Later…**

"They may wear costumes, but it isn't Halloween." The television in my room blared as I was sitting in bed, getting my suit off, "They're real life superheroes, and in the two years since ordinary citizens don capes and masks, the movement has started to spread." Upon hearing about superheroes, I was getting pumped.

"I became a superhero because of Kick-Ass." A very familiar man in a red-and-white costume said when the same reporter interviewed the man. It was Doctor Gravity, the superhero I've decided to meet and form a team. We were supposed to meet on Monday night. He looked so much more epic on the high-definition camera the WNRD used. As he swung his zero-g device towards the camera, I was actually fazing back a bit.

"Yeah, you just come home from work, grab your gear and go out on patrol." Another superhero, this time someone who didn't appear on the first page of Google, replied upon being asked about the routine of a superhero. I saw 'RJ' on his helmet, but I couldn't figure out what it stood for. He looked like he was equipped in bulletproof armour, but he had two hacksaws for weapons. It reminded me of Hacksaw, this huge guy decked in black from head to toe with a yellow lightning bolt for a logo that reminded me of _Flash_. His weapon of choice were hacksaws, predictably, and I wondered if RJ and Hacksaw were the same person in two different outfits, "I usually do 4 hours a shot, sometimes 6."

"Help us make the street safe." A couple of similarly dressed superheroes appeared on screen said when queried about what their objective was. Blue sports jacket with orange stripes down the shoulders and arms with matching mask that looked a size too huge as they don't fit snugly. They wore a T-shirt on the inside with a picture of a boy. They looked like a real couple, or even married.

I was pumped. The next time I suit up as Kick-Ass and take to the streets was tonight, but I decided to get out a little earlier than that, maybe in a few hours' time, go on a full 8 hours' patrol. With any luck I might get interviewed like the rest. There were people recognising me as the first and only Kick-Ass in the dead of night. With me going out in broad daylight and creating public awareness that Kick-Ass was out again, the few remaining criminals left in New York would be packing. To tell you the truth, I might be a little delusional and self-glorifying. I guess I could only be thankful that I didn't have a lot of time to continue down this road. There was something I needed to do.

I took me a few hours to get there, including the daylight I was burning to get very lost, but eventually, I was there. I've decided to visit an old friend, Aldan Bonitus, or the Grandmaster. I owe him at least that much after what he'd done for me. If it weren't for him, I would have been buried right beside my mother.

His home was a simple two-storey suburban heaven, white picket fences before white walls, freshly mowed lawn. I could see an open garage with a relatively modern car in it – at least Aldan was moving on with the times. Opening the gate to his lawn, I entered his property and pressed the door bell, trying to keep the nervous concoction in my stomach where it belongs. It was like waiting in a darkened cinema for the next X-Men sequel to start. The door swung open, and what stood before me wasn't anything I expected.

There was a look of recognition in his eyes, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. It wasn't surprising. After Mindy was safely committed into the Jameson Psychiatry Institute, we'd only met a few times, or maybe just twice, with my mask off. I gave him my name the last time I visited him in hospital. We lost contact after that – he must have gone about re-establishing his life. His daughter, Nevaeh, was all he talked about whenever I was with him, but I couldn't remember most of what he said to me – back then, all I could remember was Mindy and my own follies.

"I'm Dave Lizewski, or Kick-Ass." I offered, jogging his memory. He had far more wrinkles than I remembered, less buffed up, less muscular. He used to have a frickin' claymore with him all the time, but now it was replaced by a walking stick that he had to actually lean on at all times. A lot could change in one year – for a minute there, my mind went creative, hoping it won't be me next the following year.

"Ah yes, my old friend." He said as he smiled sheepishly, as if it took some effort to, "Please, come in, come in." He stood aside, making way for me to enter his home, which I did. Taking one slow step at a time, he lead me to his living room, a quaint old place with a wooden floor and green wallpaper, and invited me to sit down. I couldn't help but to eye him worryingly all the time, and wonder what the hell happened to the indomitable swordsman I used to know. It was like seeing _Wolverine_ in a nursing home.

When we sat down, my eyes were still wide with surprise. It was impossible to get over his transformation. Aldan picked up on that the moment he settled down and put his stick aside. At least his mind did not age at the same rate, "I'm afraid age has caught up with me, Lizewski. Just like my father before me, and the heroes before our time, I'm afraid time is something my sword cannot shun." I didn't know what to say, not before, and certainly not after. My wide eyes were all I could communicate, so I let Aldan continue.

"The injuries Mindy inflicted upon my flesh cuts deep." He said. He certainly did not lose his way of speaking. "Her eastern blades had weakened my heart, not to mention reduce my food of choice down to porridges."

"Oh… God, Aldan." I finally uttered, the only thing that could come out of my mouth. I couldn't squeeze even a drop of something smart and rational out of my brain at the time when I needed it all. Surprisingly, the Grandmaster was the one being rational despite being the victim – not that he would consider himself one, if I know him well enough, "I'm so sorry you'd have to sacrifice so much to save Mindy."

"Nay, I should be the one to yield an apology." He turned it around, our topic of discussion giving him some strength, as if he was going back in time, to back before he was stabbed in the chest and guts, "I was no master of the handgun. I could have killed Mindy when I let fly upon her. It flutters my heart to this day."

"You didn't know it was Mindy, remember?" Reminiscing on the past with him, I remembered the scene as well as if it was just now – It was raining with a thunderstorm coming, standard Hollywood stuff with a not-so-standard situation. I thought Mindy, who was taking the identity of Demoness at the time, was about to end me with her swords when I heard gunshots instead. Opening my eyes, I saw her on the ground, with Aldan not so far away, hands on a smoking mafia enforcer's pistol, his blood forming a rough circle under him.

"Aye, I remember. I believed her to be my own daughter instead. It makes no difference, for I rue that day as the day I let fly upon a child, a mere girl who hadn't even understood the monthly pain of womanhood." His eyes were gazing at something before me, as if he was watching an invisible television ahead of me. He snapped out of it soon after, "And how is your charge, Mindy Macready? I trust that she's fine and well?" There was no doubt that I could believe him. It took me some time to notice, but he remembered Mindy's name better than mine. Upon her being mentioned though, I felt like Aldan himself, old and bruised, even if things were turning out alright.

"Man, where do I start?" I didn't know it, but I had a hand on my head, pulling, just pulling gently on my hair, as if it helps, "Doctor Paul wiped away everything that was Mindy Macready. How else could I say it? No more guns, no more swords, no more swearing, no more crimefighting, but worse of all, no more her. She left the institute a completely different girl. Mandy Lizewski. I see Mindy's body, but no more her." I rambled on, trying fucking hard not to wet his carpets in front of him. My grandest achievement of the day, a feat harder than manning up during _Titanic_.

"You… You have my sympathies, Lizewski." I could tell that he was reacting the same way I was when I first heard about it. Shock and awe, straddling on the tightrope of belief and disbelief.

"How's your daughter? What's her name again?" As I was fighting an emotional battle inside, I couldn't remember anything of much else.

"Nevaeh is well and good. I could tell from her eyes grief for her mother, but she smiles whenever she is by my side." Aldan was back to watching that invisible television before me again. He reminded me of a wise old sage from old Chinese movies, "I fear the day my body no longer holds, as there and then, her grief would be complete, and as she professed to me, so will her destruction."

Which was when I realised that I'd never seen his daughter before, not when I was with him in hospital, and not now – his daughter was probably out, with friends or something. I didn't feel like pressing the issue, what with the tone feeling worse than _Titanic_ already.

I felt like shit even before I changed into my Kick-Ass costume in his bathroom and started my patrol.


	10. Blood On My Hands

**The Descent**

**Chapter 9: Blood On My Hands**

It was harder than my earlier days, doing patrols. Back then, all I had on me was a green wetsuit and a pair of batons. Now, I'm almost a SWAT cop, minus the cooler gadgets and guns. But something even heavier was weighing me down, and it wasn't even Monday yet. It'd lead me to wonder - was the world a better place with me around? With all those new superheroes running about? Or were we complicating things?

I saw myself in 'RJ', and Doctor Gravity. They were what I used to be, the right mix of naiveté and enthusiasm, and guess how did it turn out? I was trapped in the event horizon of a blackhole, felt like ripping my eyes out like Sam Neil in _Event Horizon_. I felt like a virus, multiplying myself through the superhero phenomenon. All the others were just copies of me, and yet I wouldn't stop, even as I'm telling you this now. I wanted the mask, the Kick-Ass persona, even when I'm selfishly putting Mindy at risk of a relapse. I'm a dirty old virus, no matter what the people on the streets say.

"Hey Kick-Ass! Welcome back!" A girl in a black jacket cheered my return. Her skinhead boyfriend, or friend, wanted a hi-five, so I gave him one half-heartedly. Wasn't even looking at him. It didn't even bother me anymore if it was affecting my image.

"Yeah!" The skinhead exclaimed during the hi-five, ecstatic. I guess he didn't notice, "You're the best, man!" I didn't show my appreciation, because Mindy was on my mind way before his compliment. I thought her discharge from Jameson Psychiatry Institute would fix things, that adopting her as a sister was atonement. It's freaky, but I thought I wouldn't be as lonely in my family with just me and dad, or in the superhero world as Kick-Ass. I was wrong on all counts. Nothing was fixed. There was no atonement, not a chance. The damage'd been done, and can never be taken back. I was lonelier than ever, the blues spreading throughout my body instead of turning yellow and fading away. It wasn't Mindy in my family, and I'm certainly alone as Kick-Ass walking the streets, no Hit-Girl by my side.

There was no crime to stop for the day, again. Not that I was paying much attention. After 3 hours of nothing, I couldn't take it anymore. It was the _Fortress of Solitude_ for me. If you ask me, I've no idea whatsoever why I decided to retreat there. Was it a knee-jerk response? Was it some kind of logic? I wouldn't know, and I was past the point of rationalising everything. I'd ran out of juice with the Mindy business.

Damon Macready. It was a name I'd avoided for a long time. I preferred Big Daddy – more distant. Back when Marcus Williams passed on, he and Mindy became a court case. Mindy was the easy part, as Marcus' will excluded his own family from taking guardianship over Mindy – I've never really known or understood why. Then there were the assets Damon ensured remained with Mindy, regardless of who was guardian. This included their apartment home which acted as their headquarters, as well as their safe houses, all 6 of them, from A through to F, which were also embedded deep in apartment buildings. Harder to find, I guess. It was all in his will. The case dragged on for a few months. They were quiet about it, 'judge's decision pending'. By the time they've decided to let Mindy and subsequently, me and my dad, keep Damon's assets, I didn't bother. Kick-Ass and the superhero world was gone to me at the time with Mindy in an asylum, only to all be revived limply a week back.

I took a bus to Big Daddy and Hit-Girl's headquarters. Didn't even know how long it took. I was surprised I didn't overshoot and get lost somewhere outside of New York. It was located on the top floor, last unit to the right. Number 14. I had the key in my keyring, and using it, I entered the house, from the present back into the past.

It didn't look like anything out of the ordinary at first. A white hallway with generic pictures on the wall, tall and thin tables. There was a pink luggage by the door. I'd only been in the father-daughter duo's headquarters once after the court turned it over to me and my dad – I didn't know what it was for. It did look familiar though. Floodgates opened in my mind. I remembered myself walking through this hallway with Hit-Girl, after nearly getting burnt alive, after… Big Daddy was killed because of me.

A closed door with a keypad. I opened it, and immediately an LED on it started flashing, a cellphone inside started ringing. It was their system of detecting intruders entering their operations room – I figured that out the first time I came while Mindy was still in a straitjacket. I didn't rush. Couldn't bother. Taking the old cellphone in my hand and wiping away the dust collecting on its screen, I switched the alarm app on it off. _Big Daddy's cellphone_, blasted my mind. I dropped it back on the table.

Grabbing a chair, a chair that probably used to be where Mindy (not Mandy) sat, I leaned back, took in the room around me. I was a goldfish. The computer screen before me was nearly grey with dust. The guns all around, mostly coloured in deathly black, had a mane of grey on their scalps. A year of dust, dust that probably were once part of Mindy and Big Daddy, their skin, now dead, coating everything they owned.

There were guns all around me, stuff that anyone from a comic book geek to a gun nut would ogle over, but nothing interested me, nothing but the picture standing beside the computer monitor before me. I picked it up, held it in both my hands. Can't do it one-handed. Too sacred. The glass had attracted a lot of dust. Only two figures, like ghosts, stood behind it.

I wiped away the dust, and there they were, preserved by the miracle of photography. Back then, I didn't even dare to look at such photos of them. There was no going back now. The faces of those victimised by my naivety. Damon and Mindy Macready, side by side, both smiling, as if nothing happened. Damon with his blonde hair, moustache and big spectacles, and Mindy… Mindy in her…

I laid my head on the table, used my arm as a pillow. It was dark, but it became darker, and darker.

**The Lizewski Residence…**

D'Amico Tower… Da-Mico Tower… Why does it sound so familiar? What's a D'Amico Tower? Why does Mr Sal say that I'm familiar when I've never met him before? I wish I had the internet on my phone so that I could find out, but dad wouldn't give me my internet on the phone. Dave wouldn't let me touch a computer. Everyone in school could use the internet on their phone. It's so unfair.

"Mandy? Mandy honey?" I heard dad said over me. I looked back at him, "You okay there, Mandy? You zoned out there for a second." I was in bed, and daddy was tucking me in. I don't know why, but I liked it better when Dave does it. I feel weird, because normally a girl would prefer daddy to do it.

"I'm fine, daddy." I reassured him, "Dad, what's a D'Amico Tower?" I wanted to ask Dave this question but he wasn't around for the whole day. Where did he go when I needed him the most? Something was wrong with me. I can't think. Why?

"Where did you hear that from?" Dad queried. I wasn't sure if I should tell him about Sal. I shouldn't have talked to strangers. But I don't want to lie to daddy.

"I met a new friend today." I said. Dad was so tall when I look up at him from my pillow. He looks a bit scary that way, "His name is Sal Bertolinni. He said that." Dad didn't answer immediately.

"It's a place." Dad finally said, but he wanted to say more, "It's Sal's thing, so don't worry your head over it, okay?" He ruffled my hair. A lot of people love doing that to me. I like it too.

"Now, goodnight." He finally wished me. He kissed me on the forehead.

"Goodnight." I wished him back. Dad stood up and walked away, switched off the light for me. He was very gentle. He closed the door without making a big bang.

The room was still bright in the dark. Yesterday, after we ate at my belated birthday party, Dad, Dave and all my friends went up to my room to paint the walls. I helped out too. I like the colour – light blue all around and dark blue near the ceiling. But I don't know… I still think pink and purple were nice too.

I snuggled deeper into my bed. It feels warm and cosy… Like it here in Dad and Dave's home… Love them so much… But why, why were they trying to… What is D'Amico? Sal knows me? Why was my family… D'Amico… Trying to… Can't… Tower…

Mom already died for nothing… So I'm sure as hell not going to let my Dad die for nothing too…

Dead bodies..! Dead Bodies everywhere! I walked past them, over them why am I in purple tights and boots? Books all over, fallen from bookshelves on both sides what is this place? What is this place? Getting darker…

"Play time's over kid." A big man in dark brown clothes said. Who is he? He looks mean.

"I never. Play." Voice out of my mouth. I can't control myself, walked closer. Didn't want to he looks mean please just run.

"Oh really?" He wants to hurt me, he sounds like he does. I ran forward, didn't want to didn't want to. He spun like a top, thrust his leg into my face. I flew backwards the pain oh the pain. My face felt broken blood coming out of my nose.

Frank (how did I remember is that his name?) walked to me tried to stomp on my face but I got out of the way, along the couch how did I do that I'm not an adult he tried to kick me while I flew but I was out of the way _what is happening? Why am I in this?_

We chased each other I veered away from the desk like a game of catch danced around the couch as brown as he was. Wall in front of me blocking me but I walked up the wall and jumped behind Frank.

I jumped on him and started punching him there was metal in my hand metal in my hand started punching him again and again Oh God the violence _Dad and Dave won't like it_ Frank won't go down so I smashed his head with mine still won't go down. I bit him bit him in the shoulder _what is happening_ why am I doing all this violence is wrong?

Frank caught me slammed me against the wall choking choking me can't breathe panic I can't help but to panic struggle struggle hard put my hand on his face trying to push him away but my other hand found a vase and I smashed it into his head.

He threw me on the desk everything on me hurts can barely breathe my back hurts the pain. Please stop this, I can't take… found a knife on my right felt power once again walked up to Frank he has blood everywhere, afraid. Tried to punch me but I stabbed him in the shoulder I wanted to end it cut his throat watch the blood splash but he leaned out of the way, grabbed me but I stabbed him in the arm.

Tried to cut him in the neck again and he tried smack me but I ducked but he knocked the knife out of my hand and smacked me hard oh God my jaw hurts he took me swung me high up in the air couldn't breathe scared and slammed me into his desk felt myself falling, falling down on the floor the desk had given way felt like my back is broken can't move anymore jaw hurts everything hurts can't get up.

Can barely breathe blood in my mouth I think I coughed up blood oh did I did I? Frank walked away I looked at him, wanted to leave just wanted to leave but he came back to me, punched me hard, punched me again, scolding me that I've been bad I can hardly see after he was done with me can't even wriggle anymore. He walked away.

But he came back and pointed something silver at me a wand? No, it was a… Gun… Couldn't help but to shiver at the sight. "God I wish I had a son like you." Barely hear him barely conscious "Time for a family reunion." Blackout I really want to be with Dave and Dad again. Blackout. Explosion. He shot me?

I flew, flew up to heaven. Am I dead?

I opened my eyes and looked out the window. It was raining outside. I had a weird dream… a nightmare. "D'Amico… Tower." I mumbled, my lips dry. I remember thinking about it before falling asleep. The sun wasn't up yet. It was blue outside. It was my favourite colour. Something wet was sliding down my nostrils. _Must be snot_. I wiped it away with my hand. It happens sometimes when I had nightmare, when I was crying.

It was too early. Dad or Dave would usually wake me up when it was bright outside. I got out of bed on my own. I felt light-headed. I could barely remember my nightmares. I could barely remember the last one – only darkness, people shouting. I remembered 'Robin'. This time, it was even harder – I think I got into a fight. It was messy and everything was happening so fast.

I walked out of my room and into the bathroom. Dave would love it when I do things on my own. _More snot coming down my nose_. I wiped them away. Pulling a stool out from under the washing basin, I stood up on it and saw myself in the mirror, and for a moment, I thought my hair was purple and I was wearing a mask, but it was only because it was dark.

I switched on the lights, and climbed back up the stools. My hair was blonde. I wasn't wearing a mask, but there was red on my face. Blood. BLOOD. I nearly fell off the stool. I looked at my hands. BLOOD. I was wiping blood away with my hands. My legs felt like the school canteen's jelly. My hands too. They were shaking, and I couldn't help it. My legs felt like giving way, so I sat on the edge of the bathtub. BLOOD. My hands were shaking. I remembered getting into a fight with a big man, but why would I?

It was too much. I promised myself to stop crying, but I couldn't help but to cry again. It was too much. I was bleeding, and it was still coming out of my nostrils, down my mouth. Then someone knocked on the door. I jumped and stopped crying. I didn't want to worry them.

"Mandy? You okay in there?" It was Dave's voice. I panicked, so I quickly got on the stool again. I started washing myself, "I thought I heard you sniffling."

"I'm fine, Dave. I was just… blowing my nose." I LIED. I can't believe I lied to my dear brother. I didn't even want to. I just didn't want him to worry about me anymore. I could see that it hurts when he worries about me. The blood on my face and hands was gushing into the sink, light red. I checked myself in the mirror again. There was no purple hair, no mask, and no blood. I stopped bleeding.

"Okay, if you need anything, just holler." Dave said. He sounded tired, but he was always worried about me. I could hear his footsteps, becoming softer. He must be walking away. I started brushing my teeth, but it was hard because my hands were still shaking.


	11. The Kiss

**The Descent**

**Chapter 10: The Kiss**

**13 June 2011, Monday**

Deer Diary,

School started again today. I'm scared of coming back, because the weekends were fun. I'm scared that I will bleed in class, and then everyone will hate me and say that I am disgusting.

Writing class was hard. Mrs Morrison said that I am making a lot of spelling mistakes, but she didn't scold me. I was afraid she might. Instead, she was okay, I guess, like Mrs Davies. Doug and Carl became jealous of me though. They were always getting the worse scolding from the teachers.

But that was not the worst thing that happened today. When I was in the yard, two large boys asked for my lunch money. I didnt want to give them my lunch money because I would go hungry, but they pushed me.

I had sudden thoughts about fighting, but I remembered my nightmare, and I cant stop shaking, so I gave them my lunch money. Why must people do things like this? They are EVIL. I've never met people more evil than that before.

I was lucky that the adults were nice to me. When I told the kitchen people about it, they gave me my lunch. They said that I was a sweet girl. I didn't tell Dave though. I didn't want to worry him. He looks tired, and he's always frouning, and worried.

After school, I went to Pete's house. I had to ask Dad first though, but he agreed as long as I dont read comic books, play violent computer games or watch violent movies. Pete and I ended up playing Snakes and Ladders, and Chess. I kept beating him in Chess, and he said that I was like Professor X, but I don't know who Professor X was.

When I came back home for dinner, I wanted to talk to Dave, but I couldn't find him anywhere. Dad said he went out with friends. I wish I could be with him more, maybe be with his friends…

…

I was actually excited today, being Kick-Ass, that I decided to leave early to go on patrol. I would be meeting my first potential teammate, Doctor Gravity with his Zero-G Device. In the hours before that, I was greeting people when they were cheering me on. I was pumped. Today felt like a jackpot – I even came across a purse snatcher, taking away the possession of someone's grandma. I took off after him, nearly ran out of breath, so I fired my tasers. Both of them. At him. Needless to say, he couldn't move for quite a while, and the rest was routine – zip tie him, wait for the shower of glory and then leave shortly before the police came.

I tried my best not to think about Mindy. I plunged into my Kick-Ass double identity. After all, that's what being a superhero's about right? Putting aside your secret identity to get out there and kick criminal ass? Still, the ghost of Mindy's past was always not far away, just at the horizon. I had to work hard to keep it out.

**Later…**

Down the street, the red-and-white uniform of Doctor Gravity was unmistakable. He stood out from the crowd – that was partly what our costume was for. It took an almost neon red and blue for the citizens of Metropolis to notice him in the sky, anyway. Normally, I would think of the coolest way to make an entrance, but we were on the street, there were people all around and I wasn't in the mood by the time Doctor Gravity came along.

"Doctor Gravity?" I greeted him formally – it was the least I could do. Surprisingly, he didn't notice me until I was closer.

"Kick-Ass. A pleasure!" He took my hand, did a secret greeting of some sort with me. My hand followed his almost unconsciously. It wasn't much of a secret handshake, "Did I ever say that you inspired me?"

"Yeah, on TV." I'd seen him before. He wasn't unknown. The media had already gotten to him, not to mention the internet. He was first on Google.

"You look cooler in the flesh. Last time I saw you on TV, the footage wasn't good." He praised. All I did was just to just nod and say yes, yeah, sure. After defeating Mindy in her insanity (barely, we were both unconscious by the end of it), I didn't bother with the media anymore, and once I stopped going out as Kick-Ass, the media stopped bothering me. We started walking, and he started warming up rather quickly, a little too much like a fanboy, "Check this out." He thrust out his space-age stick to show it to me in full view.

"This is the Zero-G Device I invented. Can levitate any object up to a ton." Doctor Gravity claimed, and I listened intently, although admittedly his invention looked far less impressive than how it was on his Facebook page.

"For real?" Still, somewhere deep inside me, I wanted to believe. He looked at me, wearing a somewhat devious smile.

"Hell no, man! This is a baseball bat wrapped in tinfoil!" He admitted, and we laughed together. In the end, this Doctor Gravity fellow was a fascinating guy, although I was starting to doubt his capabilities in a fight. Sure, he wasn't Hit-Girl, but I had to start somewhere, "But it fooled you!" I wasn't so sure if it would fool everyone. I couldn't imagine him holding off a gang with fear of his device alone.

While we were patrolling, he stopped by a street vendor, ordered a diet mountain dew. He offered to buy me a can, but I declined. I didn't feel like including projectile vomiting as one of my moves. I was starting to really doubt his fighting ability, and starting to miss Hit-Girl's.

"I'm not even a physics professor, just a copywriter for an ad agency." He threw even more cats out of the bag. It was positively raining with cats. As it turns out, Doctor Gravity wasn't very far from being a cosplayer, or a roleplayer. I was almost eyeing him impatiently, worryingly, but in his revelry he didn't notice. The only thing going for him was that he was original (marginally) and he was for real (at least I think so). "But that's why I love this stuff! You can be anyone you want!" He said, showing off his 'Zero-G Device' like a giant claymore from _Braveheart_ or something. Well, at least the design was pretty cool. I didn't even notice it was tinfoil he used.

We patrolled together, into the night. I was hoping for more action, but I was hoping even more for Doctor Gravity to digest his diet Mountain Dew, or at least fart the gas out. After hearing everything he said, I was beginning to distrust his ability to watch my back. "Done many team-ups before?" He finally asked. I was worried that he wouldn't stop talking about himself, about the making of Doctor Gravity.

"Kind of. Yeah. No, not… Really." How many times had I done team-ups before? Once, with Hit-Girl, and it felt like she was just desperate for a partner, willing to go for anyone after Big Daddy died – there weren't many superheroes on the list back then. And if I remember correctly, she actually considered shooting me with a submachinegun to avenge her father. I was taken aback then, but not surprised. The guilt was there, it'd sunk in pretty fast. Then there was the whole thing with Demoness. While she disappeared as Hit-Girl, I did a team-up with the Grandmaster and his late apprentice, Michael. "I was getting kind of nervous, being on my own." _Not to mention dragged down by my own sins_.

"Yeah, me too. I've never even been in a fight." He spilled, just when I thought he couldn't be more inexperienced. He reminded me of myself, when I got stabbed trying to stop two muggers, the same guys who'd been plaguing me and my friends, from stealing a car. I stopped myself for a moment along that train of thought – in the end, I could relate to Doctor Gravity. I was a dirty old virus, and he's a younger me.

"Well, hopefully you won't have to." I tried to cushion his apparent shame, make it easier to take. I was there before, and look where it got me, and when being naïve was taken too far, you end up causing harm…

"Hey, I've been talking to a guy talking about forming a team if you're interested." He finally said something that caught my attention big-time. The motherlode. The way to restart my career as Kick-Ass, to get off where I left off. The next logical step – forming my own _Justice League_, with its own Batman, Superman, Wonderwoman, Green Lantern… "I don't know how serious he is, but his picture is pretty hardcore."

"Are you kidding me? That's why I contacted you!" I couldn't contain my excitement anymore. My gear felt weightless then. Membership into my own Justice League, hopefully even becoming a founding member – my credentials for helping to put an end to Frank D'Amico and Demoness should mean something… _Yeah, and killing lots of innocent people too_. I stopped smiling, shut my teeth back behind my lips again, "I didn't want to freak you out by bringing it up too soon, you know."

"I'll show you his profile after I hit the men's room." The good news was, the Mountain Dew's out. Bad news? It was obvious the almighty atom wasn't exactly drilled and combat ready. _Exasperating_. I leaned by the toilet door, registering the faint smell of waste from within. I moved away from it. If it was Hit-Girl, things would have been smoother, and I wouldn't be the one doing all the worrying.

"Yo, Kick-Ass!" Someone shouted from across the street, walking towards me. A man in a black shirt, accompanied by a huge guy in a singlet, taking a video of me. They were either victims or fans, "Man, am I glad to see you."

"Is there anything I can do to help, sir?" The words popped out of my mouth with well-rehearsed bravado. I didn't even need to think. The suspicions came much later. As in never. The last time I checked, superheroes don't get lynched.

"Yeah, I was hoping you could help me get a million views on Youtube." He said, fast and aggressively. I could see mischief in his eyes, a smile that says it all. Something extended in his hand, a telescopic baton of sorts. Silver enough for me to taste steel in my mouth. With no time at all, he was onto me. I reached for my own batons, but he was faster. He went for it with a swing from below upwards, but I leaned out of the way, finally pulled out my own batons as I kicked the man with the telescopic baton back. They'd caught me at the wrong time. Just like most other times, I was grieving, and they'd pissed me off.

"I've handled worse than the two of you!" I shouted. I didn't care how stupid I sounded, or how loud I was, whether I was attracting attention or not. As far as I was concerned, they were dead meat because they caught me with Mindy on my mind.

He took another swing at me, but I cross-blocked it, gave him another kick where it hurts the most in the male anatomy. Just as he was trying not to vomit, I brought my batons down on his shoulders, as hard as possible. Rage. Or heroic justice. Depending on your interpretations. His wrestler-type friend was still filming with his cellphone, but as soon as Telescopic Baton Guy hits the floor, he got the hint and lunged at me. His fist travelled faster than I thought, but that's where my helmet came in. Next thing I knew, he was clutching his fist with his other hand, screaming bloody murder. I was secretly hoping he broke it.

Telescopic Baton Guy was no longer armed. He put up his fists, but he was getting scared. I swung a baton at his direction, but he swerved out of the way. Which was when I found out that his buddy didn't break his fist on my helmet, as he brought the telescopic baton down on me. A blow, twice. I fell to my knees from the force, but my vest protected me quite well. That, and of course, my fucked up nerve endings and titanium plates. I could barely feel anything. Spinning around, I brought my batons on Singlet Guy, getting him in a knee and stomach.

But in the end, I was still one man and they were two. I could soon feel a foot on my back, the force bringing me down again, not that I was standing, but it ended there. Doctor Gravity to the rescue. He came in just in time from his adventure in the men's room, swung his 'Zero-G Device' sideways at Telescopic Baton Guy. I could hear bones crunching as he fell backwards. No screams or wails yet, "Run, Kick-Ass, run!" Doctor Gravity beckoned me.

"I don't run!" I gave him my intentions. I was still pissed off at my assailants. It became a 2 vs 2 situation, and Doctor Gravity was kicking ass admirably, for someone who'd never been in a fight before, who was a mere copywriter, an inch from a cosplayer and roleplayer. He was soon aiming blows at Singlet Guy, whose skull was crunching. The Zero-G Device did the trick. Another swing to his ribs and legs, and Singlet Guy, for all his size, was out of the game. Telescopic Baton Guy took two blows to the face from my batons and a few in the ribs and stomach, and he was following Singlet Guy to retreat, blood snaking down their mouth and nose, "Hey, what!? Not interested in a fair fight, huh!?" I hollered at the assholes as they ran with their tails tucked between their legs. Doctor Gravity, in the meantime, was pumped. With me as a witness, he'd won his first fight, and he didn't end the day in hospital like I did.

But it was far from over. 3 more guys came down the road, and our opponents were talking to them. They knew each other, and they were all looking at us, "That is not a fair fight!"

"Yes, it is!" Returning my batons to the slots on the back of my vest, I got ready to pull my twin tasers like a cowboy in a Clint Eastwood movie. I could already envision the fight. I could shock out two of them, maybe three, then rough it out with the remaining two. They'd caught me while I was thinking about my grand finale with the Demoness (Complex), and five thugs weren't shit in that frame of mind. I knew that I would get hurt, if I wasn't already, but in a twisted way, I needed it to wake me up. Taking a brief peek at Doctor Gravity, I saw him backing away, held on to me by a thin thread woven by kinship shared by costumes, reinforced by naiveté and stubbornness. A crowd was gathering, taking videos or watching the impending fight like WWE.

They came running towards us, Hyborian raiders-like. Strength in numbers was likely on their mind. When they came within range, I drew my tasers and fired, the probes shooting out, sharp and out for nerves. Two men were caught on the sides. They froze like puppets strung up by their masters, started cursing high and low, trembling violently, dancing to the rock and roll in their veins. But it wasn't a magic solution. I was open for the rest to dump their fists on.

"Look out, Kick-Ass!" Doctor Gravity, after presumably getting back his courage after watching two of them fall, came forward, swinging his Zero-G Device wildly, clipping one in the head near me. Didn't stop the other two though, and one of them had a knife – the other was Telescopic Baton Guy, out for vengeance. I pulled off the spent cartridges on my tasers, but they were already landing hits on me. I blocked the knife with my arm, and predictably, my wetsuit wasn't stab resistant. My vest was, and the plate inside absorbed the blow from Telescopic Baton Guy's weapon well enough. For the first time in the day, however, I felt a little winded.

My answer to their question? I pressed my tasers on their chest and fired them up. Drive-stun mode, like branding cattle without the scarring bit. They backed away, and as they did, I threw my tasers to the side, pulled my batons out. My left arm bleeding barely registered. The crowd's cheering. Doctor Gravity was actually doing quite well with his single opponent, his 'device' giving him a marked advantage, surprisingly enough. His thug had no weapons. But when he was done, the other two I tasered were getting up.

I started swinging wildly at Knifeman, never mind Telescopic Baton Guy. Somehow, one of my baton caught him in the knife hand – I heard something snap. I might have broken his wrist. A blow landed on my head, and I felt it through my head despite my double-layered protection. Soon, I could feel a hot rod through my back again, I thought I was bleeding in there. I swept the guy's legs with my green batons, but he merely stumbled – I hadn't been doing enough arm group exercises.

Doctor Gravity, on the other hand, was also in trouble, as Singlet Guy and Longhair had backed him away from me, isolating us. He was swinging his bat wildly (as usual), as if staving off dire wolves in a forest with a torch. Seeing my fellow superhero in need, I spent a split-second knocking Telescopic Baton down, bringing my batons down on his back as he was trying to regain his balance. He stopped moving after he dropped flat. Knifeman, on the other hand, was backing away, clutching his broken wrist. I didn't bother with him – he could chicken out for all I care.

Rushing to Doctor Gravity, shoving a baton in the face of another gang member, I caught the two cornering Doctor Gravity, gave them a piece of my mind over the top, real hard ones. They weren't expecting it, and so they fell. While they were on the ground, we made sure it remains that way, and the zip ties came in place soon after, not that they could move much to begin with.

By the time I turned around, Knifeman was already gone. The guy who I shoved a baton in the face was still on all fours, so I did the same with him – and Telescopic Baton Guy, who was still out cold like a drunkard outside a pub. All zip tied. Our names were in the air as we lined the felons up. Like in any typical movie, the police came after the action was over. We were nearly arrested, but with so much evidence for us in the form of videos and witnesses, we were let go. No questions asked. Even the police officers responding were on our side. Singlet Guy's own cellphone video for Youtube alone told enough of a tale to make our case self-defence. Instead of getting a million hits in Youtube for himself, Telescopic Baton Guy made sure we did.

"That was crazy, Kick-Ass, you know that right?" Doctor Gravity said, but I wasn't sure if I should read it straight, but he looked like an athlete who'd just set a new record, "Team meeting's on Friday. I'll email you the address. It's an honor kicking ass with you, man!"

…

**14 June 2011, Tuesday**

Deer Dear Diary

It was really tough at school today. Mrs Davies is getting me to memorise a lot of words! She said it's for my own good. She is also giving me extra homework. She wanted me to try to remember as many words as possible, or find more from dikcionaries. What did I do wrong? I can't imagine that I'm that good before the bus accident.

Dave was quiet at lunchtime today. Even Marty and Todd didn't know what happened to him. I'm worried about him. I wish he'd just talk to me. He's been out a lot at night. When I touched his arm, he shouted at me. It made me upset but he said he was sorry, so it wasn't that bad.

I was extoted again by the two big boys today. The lunchroom people told me that I should report it. Pete told me I should bring my own lunch. I haven't talked to Dave about it yet.

When we came back home today, daddy gave me a present. It was a bicycle and its light blue in colour. I like it. It was small enough for me, unlike Dave's bicycle. It had training wheels on –people are going to laugh at me!

Dave decided to teach me how to cycle. He said that I used to know how to cycle, that 'big daddy must have taught me before'. But I kept falling down! I'm lucky Dave gave me his old helmet and guards.

Anyway, I finally told Dave about the bullies in school. He didn't go out at night today. He got mad, and he said that 'he'll deal with it'. Also, he told me not to go down to the basement. He said it's dirty and dangerous.

Dad said that I could try it, so I've started praying before going to bed. I saw God's face again, and this time, I even saw what he was wearing. He was wearing a brown jacket and shirt. When I asked Dad about it, he said that it was puzzling, because God usually wears white.

My head hurts. The homework Mrs Davies gave me was tough. It's hard to remember all those words. I'm going to bed, so goodnight Diary!

…

**15 June, 2011, ****Wendsday**** Wednesday**

Dear Diary,

Mrs Davies saw my homework. She seemed worried about me. When she asked me where I took my words from, I told her that I just remembered them. I don't even know what some of them mean!

Like kalashnikov (maybe a name?), stryker (an animal?), holster (not sure), greaves (being sad?), condition red (an illness?), tec-9 (NO IDEA) and bouncer (I heard that it's a very big man. Pete said so but I cant help but to feel its something else). They must have come from before my accident.

I didn't do very well in social studies. When Mr Cole was talking about the law and things like that, I told him that they're not perfect, and bad people could escape easily, especially when the bad people and good people were friends. He scolded me! Maybe I'm wrong. I apologised after the class was over.

Dave said he'd stop the bullies and he did! I met the meanies at the place they want me to be at, and then Dave walked up to them and warned them. I wish he didn't have to fight them though, poor Dave! He got punched in the mouth, and he started punching back. I wanted to help, but I can't stop shivering! I guess Dave's right. I'm just a girl and I'm 11 years old. How could I help?

We had to see the principle though, but she was kind to us. She believed Dave and me, and said that the bullies would get into so much trouble. Dave was taking a video of the bullies taking my money! I'm lucky to have such a smart, brave brother. I love him so much! I just wish he'd talk to me more, like in last week. He went out at night again after he took me out to jog.

I'm having a headache again, I don't know why. Goodnight, diary!

…

**16 June, 2011, Thursday**

Dear Diary,

I kept having nightmares. Yesterday, I dreamt of an angel stopping many bad guys who wanted to hurt me. He was wearing green, and he had these two large guns on his back. Weird right? And he shot them down, because they wanted to shoot me. One of them had a… Giant gun, a big, black man in a suit. Like a bouncer. It wasn't a nightmare, but it was loud and scary too, even when I was saved.

It was even worse today!

…

"You hate him, yes?" It was dark a girl spoke to me in the dark she sounded a lot like me. I was in purple tights, cape and boots again and I had guns in my hand I spun around and shoot behind me but there was nothing I hit nothing.

"No…" _Who do I hate_? _What are we talking about_? I couldn't control myself but I agree with myself I don't hate anyone not even the bullies it's bad to hate.

"Yes, you do." The girl who sounded like me spoke again I was afraid so very afraid I turned back front and fired again the guns I had on me were loud! _Who is she_? _Who do I hate_? A door opened and shut in front of me when I was fixing my guns they stopped firing I feel naked and scared.

I shot the door and kicked it open there was light underneath the door she must be inside but I didn't want to fire the gun or kick things I wanted to run oh so much to just run away from this. There were even more guns inside and some of them were very huge it was scary but I don't see anyone inside even when the door was opened and closed my guns were still up I can't control it. I did the same thing to another door but the same room appears I'm so confused and I'm so scared. "What the fuck?" I used the f-word I didn't even know it existed until now why did I use the f-word it is bad and wrong.

"Dave's no different from the bad guys…" The voice said again from behind me so I turned around and saw no one but fired anyway maybe she's behind the door I got scared what does Dave have anything to do with this I love him so, so much Dave is not a bad guy.

"Where are you!" I shouted and I sounded angry but I feel sad at the accusation Dave is not a bad man he's my brother he took care of me made sure the bullies didn't take my lunch money I looked everywhere even outside the window and shot at another door but there was nothing nothing at all I'm scared.

"Here." The girl said again she was sitting behind a table, her legs were on the table how rude I thought I checked there before. I could barely turn when she shot me in the chest it was loud and it hurts IT HURTS so much the pain, but why didn't die I thought I should die.

I wasn't supposed to get hit daddy I'm so sorry I failed you you taught me so much and I wasn't using everything I learnt. Mommy and daddy died for nothing I fell against the door I was shooting at I was leaning against it I can't move anymore can't get up the girl's coming for me.

She was white all over and had red, red eyes she was scary looking. She wears black and silver, her boots were high 'go away' I wanted to say but my mouth wouldn't move. "Didn't expect me there, did you?" She said as she sashayed towards me like a runway model oh God why didn't the vest protect me? _I have a vest_?

I reached for my gun again but the white girl stepped on my hand and pushed it away I think she broke my fingers it hurts so much Dave where are you I need you please it hurts. "No so fast, Hit-Girl…"

"Look's like it's my turn again…" She said after she crouched down to look at me close in the eye her eyes were red, oh so red and they were very scary I don't want to look but I kept looking, and looking.

She grabbed the sides of my head and put her lips against mine kissing me young girls aren't supposed to kiss each other that way NO not even Dave and Dad why no NO please I can't stop her too weak it was disgusting she was even sucking the blood from my mouth stop please stop stop stop stop STOP!

"Stop! STOP!" I shrieked myself awake. I could feel snot coming down my face again, out of my nostrils but I knew it wasn't snot. There were already tears down my cheek even before I started crying.

My door flew open and Dave was almost flying in. He was even holding this big, huge flashlight. Mag-lite – I remembered using that word. He looked like he was about to beat me with it, so I cried even more. He switched on the light and I panicked. I didn't want him to see the blood. I covered my nose and mouth, but I was too slow.

"Mandy!" He shouted after me, and before I knew it, he was sitting on my bed. I didn't know he could be this fast. Next, he had his hands on my wrists, but I didn't want him to see the blood, "Let me see, Mandy." I kept shaking my head. I didn't want him to see but he kept pulling at me. I couldn't keep up, "Mandy, let go." He ordered me sternly. He was frightening me, and I knew he had already seen the blood, so I let go. Dad was also awake, standing by the door. They both saw it.

**Later…**

"What's your nightmare about, Mandy?" Dave asked. It wasn't even morning yet. I saw the clock in my bedroom when Dave was cleaning me up, and it said '0613'. We were already having breakfast when it was dark blue outside. I heard Dave's question, but I was afraid to answer. My cheeks felt red and hot. All I remember was… "Mandy, please, I'm worried about you, you know." Dave knew how to get me to open up. I can't help but to keep looking at my bowl of cereal – it was a lot less harder to look at than their eyes.

"I remembered… Kissing." I gave in in the end. How could I not? Dave wasn't around as often anymore, but when he was, he did care. He was here with me right now. My cheeks turned redder, I could feel it.

"Who, Mandy? Was it a boy you saw at school?" Daddy asked. Dave said he would worry about things like that all the time, "Was it Pete?"

"No!" I squeaked immediately. _Disgusting_! He was only a friend – now I knew what Dave meant, "I don't remember." I lied. Again. _Am I a bad girl_? I didn't want them to know that I dreamt about a scary girl my age kissing me. "I can't remember anything else." I was a liar. I remembered what the girls chanted when they didn't believe I lost my memory. _Liar liar pants on fire! Liar liar pants on fire!_ But I remembered – I was fighting. I was in pain and I had guns. I couldn't help but shiver at the thought. I don't know if Dave noticed me shivering. But he was looking at me.


	12. My Father in Heaven

**The Descent**

**Chapter 11: My Father in Heaven**

I was early for the meeting, wherever the hell it was – Doctor Gravity told me to wait at some back alley behind Murphy's Bar in Bowery Street, and prepare for a surprise. Cue me sitting on a loading dock, all alone, this weird fellow in wetsuit and pseudo-SWAT gear. I had plenty of time to imagine what the surprise was, and I had plenty of ideas from the pages of comic books and the silver screen of movies. I could imagine the team coming down, in a neatly arranged Delta formation. I could imagine a huge secret entrance opening up. At the same time, I kept an eye out for danger – I was paranoid enough after getting tricked by Red Mist to think that Doctor Gravity could be a plant, and my date with the street gang yesterday a stage. I was paranoid, some could say too paranoid, but after everything that had happened…

I remembered the Grandmaster. I remembered thinking about inviting him into whatever superhero team I managed to put together. I've seen how he was, but I couldn't stop seeing that glorious _Aragorn_ in him, in that shrivelled shell. I decided to text him. I was lucky he'd modernised with the help of his daughter, Nevaeh. Last time I checked, he was also on Facebook, and I got his number from there:

* * *

**From: Dave Lizewski**

**To: Aldan Bonitus**

Aldan, Im meeting n actual team of supeheroes! You wanna come?

* * *

I didn't know what to expect. It sounded like hoping _Wolverine_ would tear through the silver screen with his Adamantium claws, waving hello to everyone. Unrealistic. On the other hand, miracles happen. Miracles like Mindy – no girls before puberty could have pulled what she did in the past year or so, and for a year, I was dreadfully certain that she would be a permanent resident of Jameson Psychiatry Institute. Well, at least the message came along. I could imagine him having porridge for an early dinner. Not particularly encouraging:

* * *

**From: Aldan Bonitus**

**To: Dave Lizewski**

Dave Lizewski. With all sincerity, I appreciate your invitation to your no doubt illustrious cohort of fine peacemakers. However, I must apologise, for I can barely even teach in the local chapter, much less fight crime in any fashion.

It is never what I wanted, my friend. My sole reason for returning home to New York is my family. Having failed my late wife, my daughter Nevaeh is all that binds me to this world. There was never any intention for me to become a 'superhero'. I live for Nevaeh, and her alone now.

I dearly hope you understand, Dave Lizewski, and not let this come between our friendship. Once again, I apologise for this rejection and any hurt I brought in its wake.

* * *

Aldan was a mash of old and new world ideals. He'd written a short letter to me in cellphone message form. I was hardly disappointed by his response. I knew all along that he would reject it. Though it doesn't mean it didn't snuff up some hope in me. Not to mention, there was always that undercurrent right up to my chest – I felt queasy that Aldan was the way he was, especially considering that I was involved, even if he wasn't blaming me. With his rejection came his image of vulnerability anew – I hadn't met his daughter yet, but who's going to take care of her if Aldan kicks it?

For some time, I stewed in this undercurrent, but it didn't last forever. The door in the loading dock behind me opened up without warning, mechanically, sounding vaguely futuristic. There was a streak of paranoia in me, so I backed away quickly, halfway across the alley, my batons out.

And they were still out when Doctor Gravity walked out of the opened loading bay, his Zero-G device by his side, shining pink in the relative darkness, reminding me vaguely of Mindy, the colour. "Pretty cool, huh?" He boasted. It sounded like he was in this supposed base before me, like days before me, "This is how the beer gets delivered." My paranoia begins to fade, the blood washing away. I let my batons droop and my guard down, but I was still considering if it was a mistake.

When I came in, I finally decided to take a leap of faith, and put away my batons. A smile began to form on my face. There was still a fanboy somewhere in me, and I couldn't restrain him. It got even better when I realised there wasn't another door to the other side, because it was a cargo lift. "Dude… You got a secret elevator to your underground headquarters!"

"Yeah, look what I told you about the guy who owns this place!" Doctor Gravity replied with equal enthusiasm. I could tell even past his red-tinted goggles and mask, at least, that he was almost as new as me to the superhero facility. His grin said it all. It gets even better than that. There was a corridor ahead lined with bricks and pipes. We walked together, took a turn to the left.

"It looks like a real-life Bat Cave." It was awesome, far from what I expected. The most that I allowed myself to ever hope for with Big Daddy and Hit-Girl non-functional was some backroom in an abandoned house, or a spare storeroom with a store as a front, some place that was a member of the team's small-medium grocery business. Not even Big Daddy could match up to the fictional Bat Cave, and the chance of having a billionaire with us was next to nil.

"I know, right?" He squealed in manly delight.

When we went down further, there was a rack at the side, holding some sticks, possibly weapons. It was too dark to see, but I thought I saw police batons. There were plastic covers up ahead, the kind that can commonly be found in meat processing factories or butcher shops. I had never felt such anticipation for a long time. It wasn't the kind that you feel when things hit the fan – it was the good kind, not the kind I used to feel before my mistakes caught up with Mindy's sanity, or even Big Daddy's life. But it was the kind I used to feel when I turned the pages of a comic book issue I was dying for.

When we shoved the plastic cover past and went in, I was suddenly surrounded by more superheroes, people like me, well, somewhat. I could feel warmth in my blood. For a moment, it was shocking, the change in temperature, but it settled in well. My blood felt congealed for a long time, even after I adopted Mindy. They were sitting in a rough semi-circle, reminding me of some kind of group therapy session, but I didn't care. As far as I'm concerned, it was the therapy I need.

There were 7 of them in their costumes. I've met Doctor Gravity, I'd seen the couple in blue sports jackets on TV before, glanced at Nightbitch online… But the other three were unfamiliar, but it was obvious who the leader was. The tallest guy, who also looked the oldest and wisest, upon noticing me, stood up from the head of the green couch he was sitting on – he was altogether inspiring, like the latest Captain America but realistic, in his convincing military uniform with a dog in matching gear by his side. He was the next best thing to Big Daddy and Hit-Girl. _Hell_, I let my reservations drop; _he's as good as them_. He regarded me with a measure of respect, and greeted me in a stoic, reserved tone, a cross between too many superheroes I could remember, "Welcome to Justice Forever."

**Meanwhile…**

Dave was gone after school again. He left even earlier than before! I'm starting to miss him. Dad's still at home though, so I'm not totally alone. There was always someone in the house with me. They cared about me, I guess, so they might have made sure that at least one of them was there for me.

I was doing my homework, trying to remember as many words as I can. Then I needed to go all of a sudden, so I left my room and went straight to the bathroom. But I saw someone at the stairs on my way, so I stopped.

It was God. Blonde hair and moustache, big spectacles, brown jacket. But I saw even more of him. He wore a brown sweater over a white shirt inside and jeans. He was walking down the stairs, and I forgot all about the bathroom.

"God?" I said after him, but he didn't look at me. I followed him. When he was going down the stairs, he didn't even make a sound. He disappeared down the stairs soon after. I was a little afraid to catch up with him, "Wait, please! There's so much I wanted to say!"

I pray every day, once or twice, or even 3 times. I could see his face every time, but he wouldn't talk to me. His smile was warm, and I wanted it every day. I wanted even more to really be with him. Now, even more so, because I'm worried about Dave. He didn't seem as happy.

I went down the stairs, and I saw God going past the living room. I followed, and then I saw him going down to the basement. Dad and Dave told me not to go down the basement. I didn't know what to do then.

But I need to be with God. I could feel it inside, so much. I went after God, down to the basement. I remembered what Dave said. 'Don't go down to the basement, Mandy, it's dirty and dangerous.' It was very dark too. Like a… Like a… Nightmare I had with all the explosions and shouting.

I held my necklace in my hand, the one daddy bought me. He added a cross to it yesterday. He said that I deserve it since I was a 'devout Christian'. The wooden stairs down were already scaring me. They creaked when I stepped on them. I couldn't help but to jump at them.

'NOW GO TO ROBIIIIIIIIIIIIIN'S REVEEEEEEEENNNNNGE!' I could remember my first nightmare. It came back to me once in a while, and I was still afraid of it. It came back to me when I descended down the wooden stairs. I could almost hear the screams. 'AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! '

I held my heart and cross even tighter. I could barely see. When I was down in the basement, I couldn't see God anymore. He disappeared. There were old furniture and boxes all over, boxes on top of each other. Almost everything was taller than me! There was a workbench in the middle. I could see a… utility belt? In front of me. It was easier than everything to see because it was yellow. 'NOW SWIIIIITCH TO KRYPTONIIIIIIIIIITE!' I could almost hear it, the screams. 'ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!'

"My Father in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…" I whispered under my breath. I was scared, but I wanted to see God. I walked past the workbench, "Thy kingdom come…" There were boxes all over. Something was moving in the boxes. It was scaring me. I could barely see. I can't help but to cry, but I didn't want to make any noise. I could feel tears going down my cheeks. I was frightened, "Thy- Thy will be done…"

'There are other things in this world other than God.' I remembered what Pastor Harkman said. I couldn't move when the boxes moved even more. "Thy kingdom come…" I repeated because I couldn't even remember how to continue the prayer. I was too afraid!

I could hear moaning from inside the stacks of boxes. I couldn't move. Then an arm shot out of the boxes! I could see a little better, and I saw the arm. It was sticky and dark red. Small, like mine. I ran. I cried and I ran. I was screaming. I ran up the stairs. I didn't feel the need to go anymore. I ran. "DAD!"

When I got out, daddy was at the stairs, running down, "Mandy! What happened!?" I was crying so much. I found it hard to say it all.

"Dad! I'm sorry I'm so sorry! I went down the basement, I went down!" I hugged daddy. "There was- was something inside dad! There was a monster inside! Daddy I'm so sorry I'm so sorry Dad!"

Daddy went to take something out of his room. It was a long, black flashlight. A mag-lite. We went down the basement together. "Stay behind me, Mandy." He said, so I did as he was told. His mag-lite was bright, so I wasn't as scared anymore.

I took him to where I saw the arm coming out of the boxes. When he was about to reach into the boxes, I held him back. I pulled at him hard, "Dad, no! It's in there!" But he told me not to worry and reached in.

The box moved. Something squeaked. I jumped. Something flew across the room. I saw it. It was a squirrel, but… The squirrel flew across the room and went out a window at the side of the basement. "See? Nothing to worry about." Dad said. He chuckled, "Nothing to be afraid of, alright? Daddy's here, Mandy." I hugged him again. I was SO scared.

"Why's the floor wet?" He shined his flashlight on the floor. There was water from where we were, trailing all the way up the steps. I looked down and saw that my only pair of jeans was wet. I had never felt so ashamed in my entire life. If I wasn't crying earlier, I would have cried now.

**Back at Headquarters…**

We had gathered for a roll-call of sorts. In the centre on the green couch sat the couple in blue sports jacket, and by them a guy in red with a logo of a black fly, notably without a mask, sat on the head of the couch, too light to tip it over. Beside the guy in red, a scantily-clad well-shaped girl was leaning on a desk beside a pudgy guy in dark cyan with 5-point stars on his forehead, upper arms and gloves. Doctor Gravity took his place opposite them. I was facing them, just out of their semi-circle, as if standing trial, but it felt like the opposite of that. I didn't even feel like I was 'outside' in any way.

"So we tried the cops, and tried the newspapers. I even set up a… You know, a thing on the internet for people to help us find Tommy. Urm." The husband half of Remembering Tommy introduced his origin story. He was solemn, half way from mourning, still in mourning. There was no way it could be faked. He couldn't finish.

"But we got nothing. We never saw our son again." The wife half of Remembering Tommy finished. In happiness or in grief, they seemed made for each other. They weren't crying, bawling their eyes out like in some cheap TV series or movie. That was when I knew they'd been dealing with it for months, years upon years even. They'd simply run out of tears – I knew because I was nearly there. "I came up with the name 'Remembering Tommy' and, uh, we've been doing this 3 nights a week, so…" She couldn't finish either, and the husband half took over.

"Colonel Stars and Stripes found us online." _So, the military guy was Colonel Stars and Stripes_. But my mind decided to put him below as the priority. Even with my own demons to deal with, I could relate to the Remembering Tommy duo.

"That's terrible, guys, I'm real sorry…" I consoled them, hoping that it meant something, from one guy who knew loss to a couple who lost their son. My mind flew back to Mindy, and all that remained that was Mandy. Still, I couldn't help but to feel inferior to them in that respect – I still had Mindy with me, as much of an amnesiac as she was, as many times as I had to lie to her and keep the real her down as it was…

"I became Nightbitch after my sister was murdered and found in a dumpster." It was Nightbitch's turn. What she said gave me a new flavour of guilt. I'd judged her too soon, far too soon. Had I not done so, I might have approached her first rather than Doctor Gravity just as likely. 'Holy shit' I muttered under my breath, inaudible to the rest – fortunately for me, considering what I learnt about Colonel Stars and Stripes a little later, "Doesn't bring her back, but at least I'm doing something positive about it."

"Insectman?" The Colonel continued with the introductory roll-call.

"Yeah, urm. I- I'd been bullied my whole life for being gay. So now I stand up for the defenceless." Even Insectman's origin story was better than mine. _I became Kick-Ass because I was naïve_, I imagined how mine would go, "That's why I don't wear a mask. Too much like being back in the closet."

"Long as your heart's in the right place, we don't care what you put in your mouth." The Colonel declared, uplifting Insectman. A thought struck me at the time – the Colonel seemed familiar, his voice seemed like it was from somewhere… "Fist pump?"

"Thank you. Thank you, sir." Insectman accepted the gesture gladly. They bumped fists across the Remembering Tommys on the green couch.

"Well, I became Battleguy after my parents were mugged and killed coming home from the opera." For some reason, Battleguy's origin story felt… Different from the rest. It seemed familiar at first, and then I realised why, "Did I tell you guys that sick bastard maxed out their credit cards on porno sites?" His origin story sounded remarkably like… Not to mention his voice sounded familiar.

"I just hope we get the chance to say hello to this guy someday so that I can personally levitate his soul from his body!" Doctor Gravity had unwittingly fallen for it. Apparently everyone else did before I came along. It all clicked in place while the white atom was talking.

"Oh my God, Marty?" I blurted out, surprised at how small New York City was. Battleguy spat out his coffee immediately, shocked. It'd pretty much cemented his fate. "Yeah, I knew I recognised your voice."

"No, I don't… I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know any Marty." Battleguy, or rather Marty, deepened his voice, took a seep from his mug of coffee, pointed the accusation at me, "New guy."

"Hey, asshole, it's me, Dave." I said, a little pissed at his dishonesty, though a side of me told me I was no different back then, just that I didn't have the opportunity to lie about my origin story like Marty did. I pointed at my face, trying to get him to recognise my eyes and mouth through my wetsuit mask, through the shadow casted by my helmet made it a little harder.

"Dave?" A hint of recognition in his eyes before it exploded. He looked like a kid whose world had turned inside-out, or who'd just entered the _Twilight Zone_, "Why are you dressed up like Kick-Ass?"

"Because… I'm Kick-Ass!" It took a while to sink in, but eventually, it did. Marty was smart enough, smarter than Todd, maybe even me. An interesting predicament, seeing him going down the same path as me. I remembered his criticisms more than a year ago, when I first conceived of the notion of becoming a real-life superhero. 'Because it's impossible, dipshit.' He'd said dismissively while he was reading his comic at the Atomic Café. It seemed that I had the final laugh on the long term.

"You two know each other?" The Colonel ascertained, though it was likely rhetorical. In the meantime, Marty was hovering between being stunned and awed. Maybe with a bit of humiliation on the side.

"Yeah, like since we were 5!" I answered, laughing. _What were the chances_? The world didn't feel as lonely. It was the therapy I need, "What's all this bullshit about your parents getting killed?" I went on in my revelry – my bad, but might as well. I could see Marty desperately trying to shut me up but failing.

"Yeesh! Language." The Colonel stated his disposition towards the way we talked. He looked badass – It caught me off-guard. He looked like a guy who wouldn't even faze at Hit-Girl's language, but then again, I was being superficial, "Battleguy? Care to update your resume?" He looked at Marty, a tightrope between forgiveness and vindictiveness. I could see it past his green mask.

Marty sighed in defeat. "Ah… Urr… I'm trying to figure out how to explain this without sounding like a complete idiot right now." Marty stuttered, looking around at everyone, fear of trouble unbecoming of a superhero in his eyes. Not that he was not unbecoming of a superhero earlier. Though to be fair… Not that any of us were real superheroes. Not totally, not ever, not like Hit-Girl was. Marty was an old friend, and I'd long forgiven him – I wasn't sure about the rest.

"Yeah, I'm not sure that's possible, Batman." Nightbitch said. As it turns out, I wasn't the only one who found Marty's origin story familiar. For a flash, Me and Nightbitch were looking eye-to-eye, it felt like a connection between us was made, mediated by Batman and the Battleguy controversy.

"I'm not, either." Marty admitted, "Urm, okay, when I found you guys online, you were all swapping these awesome origin stories." Borderline panic was setting in, "I mean, Colonel, you're ex-mafia for Christ's sake." Then it happened, that side of Colonel Stars and Stripes happened.

"Yo." He stared at Marty sternly, a hint of murder in his eyes. "Don't take the lord's name in vain." He seemed religious. For a moment, I was reminded of Jesus. The familiar vibe to Colonel Stars and Stripes returned, that familiar, Italian vibe…

"I'm sorry." Marty was beyond remorseful, "I just… I didn't think you guys would let me join the team unless I had a good story too."

"Alright," The forgiving side of the Colonel won out, quite smoothly and easily I might add, "we'll let you off the hook this time, Battleguy."

"Doctor Gravity, you're next." With everything forgiven, the Colonel went on to the next.

"No real reason, really." Doctor Gravity said distractedly as he was twirling his Zero-G Device around in his right hand, "I saw Kick-Ass a year ago on TV." He waved his free hand at me. I could feel a wave of shiver all over me. I guess it's what happens when it felt like you made a difference, "Took me a while, but I thought to myself. Why not me?"

"The world ain't perfect. My job sure wasn't. Then there were all those things going on, on the news, with and without Kick-Ass…" I could tell that he'd lost half if not all his confidence as his voice trailed away towards the end.

"Your reason's real to me." Colonel Stars and Stripes said encouragingly. When I looked at him, I could tell that he meant it. He seemed larger than life. He was no superman, not even Barack Obama nor even a regular on the newspaper, but it was enough – there wasn't a need for all that, "We're all here because of Kick-Ass." Murmurs of agreement. I was quaking enough in my suit that I felt like Mindy – Now I understand how it felt like, well, barely – I had to make an effort to prop myself up on my seat on another desk, "Speaking of which, Kick-Ass. Tell us 'bout how you got to where you are now, if you please."

"Well… It's stupid, really…" I wasn't prepared to answer the roll-call. I had to improvise on the fly, which I wasn't really good at unless I was in the mood, and usually the mood came only when the thugs barge in. Outside of it, even in my Kick-Ass costume, I was on Dave mode. Or maybe it was because everyone's in a costume now, so that I wasn't much different from everyone in the room, "More than a year ago, I started wondering, 'why is it that no one's tried to be a superhero'? Remember, Marty?" I smiled at him, and he nodded in support, remembering old times – that silly smile, "So I ordered my wetsuit online, and started training and doing it for fun. Nearly fell off an apartment building."

"I got hospitalised for something else." I looked at Marty again. A smile was still plastered on his face, "my first mission, stopping a pair of car thieves, and I was stabbed and knocked down by a car. Now that's before I went viral, so you guys won't know."

"Anyway, it gave me my superpower, if there's such a thing. I had over a dozen titanium plates on my bones and some of my nerve endings were just… gone, so I don't feel as much pain." By this point, I wasn't even aware that I was giving a little more than an origin story, but no one stopped me. Surprisingly enough, they held on, mesmerised by my story. It was the first time someone, and as a double entry into the Guinness Book of Records, more than one person, was paying attention to my story, "Anyway, I don't know what made me continue. I just did, I suppose. That was when I stopped those three gangsters from killing that one guy." Then I laughed, it was something I remembered. I felt like a war veteran. It was cool, and yet at the same time it wasn't, "It was funny, really. I was just looking for a cat. Mr Bitey. Can't believe I still remember its name."

"I kept going on like that, got into a few scrapes. I met these two… Big Daddy and Hit-Girl and…" From here, it became infinitesimally harder to continue. But I didn't have to. They knew the story, like how I knew about how _Raven_ ruined _Starfire's_ wedding. At that time, I felt the trauma off the comic book, but this time it was the real deal, and this time I was _Starfire_… with all that guilt written in, "They were the… Real deal."

"I was still with the D'Amicos back then. I heard about it from the underboss I was with." The Colonel said – it was hard to believe how we'd come into the same room, putting on costumes, united under one banner – Justice Forever. It no longer mattered to me, his past, as the Colonel'd made a great impression. Not every superhero's a good guy at the beginning. Tony Stark sure wasn't your stoic paragon of idealism – he was a corporate magnate, the type who ran sweatshops, "They burnt Big Daddy alive. And we all saw how Hit-Girl rescued her father. And you. My condolences, Kick-Ass. What happened to Hit-Girl, by the way?"

"Oh… Her…" By that time, I was an emotional wreck – I've learnt to hide it well. It was easier with my mask and helmet. I wasn't sure if I should tell the truth, or lie, "Yeah… She's… Retired. Hung up the cape because of her dad." It was a half-truth. After Big Daddy was avenged with Frank's death by bazooka, Mindy was merely mourning her father's loss. She couldn't take it, got worse as more time passed, went nuts and started even more massacres to avenge her father. She became Hit-Girl again when Demoness appeared, thinking it was a new villain, but Demoness turns out to be herself, her other personality that came into being because of her father and his death. I had to defeat her myself with the help of Aldan and Michael. But of course, I couldn't tell the rest about that.

"Oh man, that's a shame. She was awesome!" Marty exclaimed – he must had been remembering that time when they were watching Hit-Girl on camera, killing the mobsters, mostly offscreen, but enough for everyone, even Todd, to know that she did. To top the sundae off, she killed two right in front of the camera, flying across the warehouse with her pistol blazing, "If only she was still around when Demoness came into town." Everyone was looking at him, willing him to shut up for the moment to respect Big Daddy's death and Hit-Girl's loss. He took the message and stopped, "Sorry."

"Even if she is still around, we won't take in child soldiers." The Colonel said gruffly, breaking the silence, emphasizing Justice Forever's codes, "It's no different from child prostitution."

"Anyway, you guys know the rest. I stopped the Demoness. Took me some time to track her, and I wasn't alone. I had these two guys from a swordsmen school or something… Took her in." Pushing aside my grief, I made the long story short so that it was out of the way quick. Another half-truth. By 'took her in' I meant bringing her to Dr Paul and then adopting her. They probably interpreted it as taking her to a police station.

"I was there myself when she raided the D'Amico Tower. She's part of the reason why I'm here." The Colonel said, his eyes a little glazed, looking at something out of my perception, deep in thought. Again, I felt that pang of familiarity, yet I couldn't put my finger on it. I was too fazed by my own problems to do any real thinking. Thankfully, he didn't pry any further, but instead: "Wanna see something cool?"

"Sure." I said indifferently, but I couldn't help it. Passing through a film of plastic strips, we went to the back of the headquarters. It was all the way to the back, past a few more rooms I'd yet to see. It was a huge room, almost a hall had it not been for the regular ceiling. At the front and centre was a circular table, resembling a conference room table, and to the sides were what looked like a training area, a workshop and a make-up section, "Nice." I mustered up all the enthusiasm I had before, but there wasn't much. I was running out. I felt like a bipolar case.

"Thought this could be our meeting room. Now, this renovation was totally clandestine." The Colonel went on explaining, "Which means nobody knew about it. Everyone else was suitably amazed by the Bat Cave. I felt like a party pooper all of a sudden… in retrospect. As it turns out, everyone was new after all. Either that, or the Colonel did the renovations overnight. It felt like a little of both.

"Now, I know it's not much, but this is just the beginning. Together we could make a real difference." The Colonel approached me, his fists up in pretend fighting. I didn't pretend to dodge – no mood, "If you'd consider it, Kick-Ass, we'd be honoured to have you join us."

I didn't answer immediately. With Mindy fresh on my mind, dishing out flurries of punches at me, I was even considering rejecting the Colonel's offer. I didn't want more lives on my conscious – I didn't want to hurt anybody else. But when I looked at all the others, including Marty, something else was there, pushing me into this, other than my missing reasons of the past.

"Sure." In the end, I took the offer. I wanted to be there, to make sure none of them would make the same mistakes I did. I was a dirty old virus, and I wanted to be a different kind of virus, one that keeps all its clones in check. There were cheers on the side, despite them knowing about my reservations, likely. I wasn't very good at hiding my feelings when I'm really down – maybe that's why they cheered, "Why not?"

"That's what I like to hear." The Colonel said, and we shook hands. It felt like he understood how I was feeling, and held back for a bit, "Alright, time for initiation. Turn around and I'll unzip yah." What he said scooped my right out of my valley of shadows, right out.

"I'm sorry, what?" I couldn't believe what I just heard – I never liked such things. Bad experiences in school.

"I'm just joking. Let's get down to business."


	13. Hallowed be thy Name

**The Descent**

**Chapter 12: Hallowed be thy Name**

**18 June, 2011, Saturday**

We went to the fair today. Daddy couldn't, so it was just me and Dave. It was fun! Carousels, horses, the games. Dave wouldn't let me take the rollercoaster though, not that I want to. I saw this boy puking after a ride. I really wish I could ride a bumper car though. It looks so much fun!

Dave and I had a talk after that. I could remember it very clearly. I am getting good at remembering things…

…

"Did you have fun, Mandy?" Dave asked. We were on our way out. I was holding his hand. I liked holding his hand. I didn't get to do that very often nowadays. He was having a hotdog, while I was eating cotton candy! It was delicious! It was a cold day, so I had to wear my blue jacket over my dress.

"Yes! Thank you so much, Dave! The horse was awesome!" I couldn't help but to exclaim when I remembered how I was holding on to dear life on the horse while a cowboy took it around the field. Horses were scary and beautiful at the same time. When I looked at him, I could tell that he wasn't as happy as I was. His smile was odd. He sounded a little serious.

"I'm glad you did." He replied. I didn't know what to think. He sounded… far away, even when he was next to me. I'm always so concerned about him. What was happening to him? He wasn't like this last Saturday.

"Dave, what's wrong? Why are you sad all the time?" I asked. I had to. I didn't care if he scolded me again. I'm worried about him. He was this way for days. We didn't talk as much, and I didn't see him as often.

"What makes you think I'm sad?" He denied and flashed a smile at me. It made me feel even worse. I actually felt… a little angry, "I'm not, Mandy."

It felt as if he didn't trust me. It felt like he was hiding something from me. I thought we were brother and sister – and brothers and sisters trust each other. I knew very well that not all siblings get along, but Dave and I were so close the first week I came back from hospital. It hurts inside when he started acting that way this week. "And I'm not stupid, Dave." I couldn't help but to say. It hurts inside and I needed to stay it.

"What? What did you say?" Dave looked at me with those wide eyes. He looked shocked. I regret saying that earlier. But it was still inside me. I felt… angry. I was angry. It was a feeling that didn't feel familiar, but I was angry. I stopped holding his hand and stopped walking. He didn't trust me. He wouldn't even tell me where he had been going at night, "Mandy, c'mon…" I crossed my arms, because I was cross.

"You're not the same anymore." I told him what I thought. I had so much to say, but I was angry. It felt like I was never angry before. Yet the feeling felt familiar. I wasn't just angry, "You're always away and even when you're with me, you… you…" I imagined a warm meal that became cold, or a fireplace that was put out. But I couldn't put it into the right words.

"I know, Mandy." I felt his hands on my shoulders. I liked it, but I was still cross, and so my arms were still crossed. I didn't want to look at him. It's like being angry made me that way, even if I don't understand it, "I'm sorry. Just that… When I look at you, I kept seeing the old you, you know? From before the… bus accident. You're right, I'm sad, and sometimes, it makes me mad too, at everything, sometimes at you. I don't know, I guess I just wish you didn't have to be this way."

I was even angrier when he said it. It grew inside me, this feeling I never had before. It felt like he was blaming me. It felt strongly like that, "You think I like being this way!? I hate having nightmares! I hate it when I can't remember things! I hate it! I hate myself! I hate you!" I shook his hands off my shoulder. People were looking at us, but I didn't care.

"Mandy…" Dave pleaded, but I didn't want to listen anymore.

"No! I don't ever want to speak to you again." I couldn't control myself, but when I said it all, it felt like the right way. I don't know why, but I regretted it at the same time, but I was even angrier, "Just take me back home."

"Mandy, c'mon…" Dave repeated himself. I didn't say a word, and so he stopped a cab and we rode it home. When we were in the cab, we were both in the back seat, but I kept as far away from him as possible. I didn't like him touching me anymore. I didn't say a word. It was quiet in the cab. I kept looking outside the car window, but somehow, I knew that Dave was always looking at me.

I… sulked in my room for the rest of the night. It started as a happy day, but ended that way. My family didn't feel like a family anymore. I didn't feel at home anymore in my room. But the longer I stayed in my room, the less angry I became, and the more I regretted everything I said.

When bedtime came, I regretted everything. I remembered the good times with my family, with Dave. I remembered that he took care of me. He taught me my name, how to say it. He brought me back home, put a Hello Kitty bandage on my knee when I fell down while jogging. He stopped the bullies.

I was a little afraid at first to go into his room. I couldn't remember where my idea for it was, but I pressed my ear against the wall, and I heard Dave in his bedroom. He sounded like he was crying. I was worried about him. I wanted Dave back.

So I went out of my room and knocked on his door. But when I did, there was no answer, and Dave didn't open the door. I wanted to give up then – they'd taught me not to open doors without anyone's consent. But when I pressed my ear against the door, I could definitely hear him crying. I couldn't take that. It made me sad too.

I opened the door. At first, I thought I was going to get scolded – I was always afraid of that. But Dave was lying down on his bed, and he was crying. I could see him shaking like me when I couldn't hold a knife. He hadn't changed his clothes since the fair. He hadn't showered, I know because I could smell it in the air.

"Dave?" I came up to him, around his bed, so that I could face him. Textbooks were scattered across the floor, some against the wall, some opened. It worried me even more. He was shaking and crying.

I sat down beside him. I didn't know what I was doing. Everything came to me from nowhere. I stroked his dark hair. It was greasy, but it didn't bother me. "I'm s-so sorry for everything." He said. I had never seen him like this before. I was usually the one crying and not making sense. "I sh- shouldn't have been that- that way."

Leaning forward, I kissed him in the cheek. It was oily, but I didn't care. He stopped shaking when I kissed him. "Oh Dave, I'm the one who should be sorry." I consoled him, and meant every word, "I'm sorry I was angry. I didn't mean it. I don't hate you. I just wanted to be with you more." I lied down beside him. It was drizzling outside, so it was colder inside. It was a little dark, because the lights were off, except for the table lamp near his bed. We stayed silent for a while.

"I have a… responsibility outside. It's very-" He was still sniffling, but he had stopped crying. I was glad I could calm him down, "-important. I'm helping people."

"Like how you're helping me?" I didn't really understand what he meant. What does he mean by helping people? Were there bullies outside of school? Were there people bullying others out in the city?

"Well, yeah, actually… yes." Dave said, still sniffling. I could understand better when he explained it to me that way. Dave was a good man. He helped me a lot – when I heard the other girls talking about their brothers, it felt like Dave was even helping me more than he should. Maybe he was too good to help just me?

"Can I come too?" I asked. I wanted to go wherever Dave was.

"No. I'm sorry, Mandy." He said, "It's dangerous out there. It's even worse than school. Like, the school's nothing – the people out there… they're willing to hurt each other over nothing. You're an 11-year-old girl, you can't help them…" I could hear him pause, taking breaths. It seemed hard for him to say that. "You should just let people help you instead."

He fell asleep soon afterwards. I slept next to him in his room. I had never done that before, and when I did, it felt peaceful, and safe. I don't remember having a nightmare. It was the first time.

…

**19 June, 2011, Sunday**

It's church day! It was somebody else saying a 'testimonial' on stage though, not Sal Bertolinni. It was a woman whose cancer stopped. I'm glad for her. She said that it happened after the pastor prayed for her. Maybe I should get the pastor to pray for me so that I could remember everything from before the bus accident. When I asked Dave and Dad about it, they told me that I shouldn't. Dave said that I was remembering things quickly, and that I shouldn't ask God for help.

But I don't think I'm remembering things quickly. I don't remember my life with Dave and Dad very well before the accident. I could only remember the things they told me.

I met Sal again after the service. He was sitting far away, so I couldn't see him until then. And when I tried looking around for him while the pastor was talking on stage, Dad stopped me and said that it was rude, so I stopped.

We didn't talk a lot. We said hi to each other and ask about what we did the previous day. I told him about the fair, and he told me that he'd been helping the sick and the poor. He's a nice guy, a lot like Dave.

A funny thing happened. Dave had only met him today, but they both went aside and spoke for a while. At first, I was a little sad that I didn't get to talk to Sal more, but I'm happy in the end. Dave and I had another friend together.

Dave took me out for a jog later in the afternoon. I could finish running a mile! But it was tiring! I couldn't breathe by the time I finished!

He said that I was doing well, that I looked a lot better than how I used to. He said I had more colour and energy, more like how I used to look. When we got home and I looked into the mirror, I saw that he was right. I have never really paid any attention to my reflection, but when I did, I was so different.

My hair's getting long. I remember getting a haircut before Dave visited me in hospital. When I asked Dave for a haircut, he said that I shouldn't get one, because I'd look more beautiful with longer hair.

…

Mindy was beginning to worry me. First, she'd developed an explosive temper that even the Mindy of before had never shown before. The only upside was she didn't remember her past self and start brutalising me. I still couldn't decide if the way she exploded was just a childish lack of control, as scary as it was, or a sign of her relapsing. I was hoping for the former. Dr Paul had asked me to use the sedative in case it was the latter, but I didn't want her back in an asylum. For the whole day, she's had me so worried and feeling lousy. I thought it was the end, that I'd brought about her relapse – the ordeal ended only when Mandy went out of her way to forgive me.

Secondly, she'd developed a worrying habit of sleeping with me in my room. Her reason? She said that she felt safe with me, and that I'd protect her from the nightmares. I'm inclined to believe her, considering that she hadn't woken up screaming with blood all over her face during the weekends. Other than what others might think if they found out, it gave me a huge privacy problem. I would have to be a real ninja every time I had to get out at night as Kick-Ass. I'd leave my house with my costume in a bag, go to a safe alley I knew to change up – but with Mindy in my room, I'd be risking her waking up and following me, finding out that I was Kick-Ass.

When dad told me that she went down to the basement despite me telling her not to, I knew that the risk was even bigger than I thought. So on Monday morning, I woke up much earlier than I was supposed to. I'd slept early to make sure I wouldn't oversleep. I'd gotten in bed alone, only to wake up with Mindy curled up beside me, using my shoulder as a pillow. It felt all wrong on multiple levels. Dad's paedophile jokes returned with a vengeance in my mind, then there was the idea of Mindy snoozing beside me – I still couldn't help but to think of her not as Mandy Lizewski, but Mindy Macready – Hit-Girl. And this little assassin was sleeping beside me, curled up, looking peaceful and happy rather than spouting profanities and frowning.

I tried to be stealthy. Gently, I replaced my shoulder with a pillow, and got changed as quietly as I can. I couldn't help but to feverishly keep an eye on her – it would royally suck if she woke up with me naked in my underpants. It was an episode of superman without his powers, but still trying to be superman. Even getting ready was a problem.

Surprisingly, I didn't set her off in any way. At least for the day. Going down to the basement where I'd moved my Kick-Ass gear, all stored in a luggage with a combination lock, I took the luggage and headed out. I'd decided to take all my Kick-Ass business elsewhere, and I'd decided on one of Mindy's closest safehouses, Safehouse F. Once upon a time, before Big Daddy was killed, it was so close and yet so far – it was right within the neighbourhood, about 15 minutes of hard pedalling to get to, just that I didn't know about it back then.

It was also the newest and most poorly stocked safehouse. It was obvious, being Safehouse F. It was located in a well-locked apartment room that looked like it was falling apart. The apartment itself seemed deserted. More than half the letterboxes had no names, and the floor the safehouse was on – the top floor naturally, had only a few names. It was ideal for the superhero business – fewer prying eyes. While it was leaking rainwater in the corridor, however, upon going into the safehouse, I found it well-maintained, if only a little dusty.

Walking in, there was a desk in the middle. A Mac computer was on it as usual. The walls had no guns. Instead, there was a picture of Big Daddy and Hit-Girl, in costumes. He was holding an assault rifle, what looked like an M4, while Hit-Girl was posing with a pair of pistols close to her face, pointing safely up, stylish. The bad ass family photo caught my attention for a good while, before I decided to move on and set my things down in the storeroom, which also happens to be where they kept their weapons. There weren't many, but their standard of 'weren't many' was about a couple dozen. In the storeroom, the floor was lined with ammo boxes while the shelves held pistols, rifles, shotguns, all manner of swords and blunt killers. They were collecting dust.

I was feeling down and out because of the family photo, so I decided to check out the rest of the apartment, oddly enough. It felt like I was self-destructive, destined for the mental hospital. Why else would I stay and get myself even more upset?

In the facilities owned by Big Daddy, there weren't exactly separate rooms. They were all together, performing one function, and that was to get him and Hit-Girl ready ASAP. The kitchen had no doors, and it wasn't just a kitchen. There were lockers and chairs in there. The lockers were huge, unlike the tall and thin kind found in school, or in the gym. All the better to store their gear and weapons.

The keys to the locker were easy to find – they were right in a drawer beneath a counter. Big Daddy must have either considered the safehouse impossible to find and breach, or unimportant if it was found.

Upon opening the lockers, I found their costumes inside along with a full loadout each. Everything was dusty, as if the apartment itself was trying hard to remind me that times had changed, and so did Mindy…

A purple bob cut wig hung at the top. I took it out, and immediately, I was sneezing because of the dust. I put it back accordingly. Next, I took out her purple tights, and couldn't help but to think that it would still fit Mindy in her current size. They were a little stiff with age, and still dusty, though not as much as the wig. A mere wash and dry would put it back into full working order, I couldn't help but to think. The gloves and boots too, stiff. The skirt was actually in very good condition. Like a national guardsman, Mindy could easily be out there in the streets within the hour – my mind wandered, but I stopped myself there. It seemed real in the moment, Mindy being back to who she was without the threat of the Demoness Complex relapsing, but in the end, it was pure fantasy… I returned her purple tights back on the rack inside.

After locking everything up, turning off all the lights in the apartment, I returned home. I was later than I was supposed to be, me being prone to remembering the past biting me in the ass. Dad and Mindy were already having breakfast at the kitchen. "Oh hiya, buddy. What were you up to? I was getting worried about you." Dad greeted as I came in through the living room.

"Nothing, I was up earlier than expected, so, uh, I cycled around." I lied with Dad's understanding and Mindy's gullibility in mind, though with Mindy's sudden explosion on Saturday, it felt like her gullibility had just as much an expiry date as her meekness.

"Maybe I could cycle with you next time!" Mandy offered, happy to see me, "I've been learning hard how to cycle. I could do it without the training wheels!" I was taken aback – she'd learnt how to cycle within the week. It was either she was extremely smart and talented, or that she'd remembered how to do so, which means she could be relapsing. I didn't want her in the asylum, so I preferred to think that it was just her wits or that it wasn't an indication of a relapse – although, face it, I could be delusional. But really, would you send your little sister back to an asylum?

**Later…**

Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Those were the days we were active, minus what Colonel Stars and Stripes term 'special operations'. It was the real deal. Being a superhero was no longer a flight of fantasy, especially for the newer guys like Marty, or 'Battleguy'. It'd become an obsession, our life. The Colonel was the man who tore it out of the pages of comic books and made it real, even if he didn't look like the comic book type.

The schedule was to meet up at the Justice Forever Headquarters at 8 those days for all kinds of things. Training, equipment maintenance and upgrade, and at this early stage, fixing up the headquarters itself.

"Combat experience. Let's go 'round the table, starting with you two." The Colonel was eyeing the Remembering Tommy duo just beside him.

"We don't fight, actually." The husband half said, shrugging, "We're just doing this for our boy."

"Well, there's this once we stood up to a child-beater. Does that count?" The wife added enthusiastically, "He was a huge man."

"Certainly. It takes courage, same as going down and dirty with a bunch." The Colonel said, and then waved a hand at the next superhero in line – Insectman.

"I don't have a whole lot of experience. I started this just 3 months ago." Insectman began slow. He looked weak and fragile with his thin and short frame, but the way he handles himself was admirable; he didn't play the part of the victim, nor show weakness, yet at the same time he wasn't boisterous, "I ran into these 2 muggers once, a black dude and a white dude, robbing this Latino office guy. I took a serious beating, but my tricks with my police batons got me through." Somehow, I couldn't help but to think of the 2 guys who kept mugging me while I was on my way home from school or the Atomics Café.

"Well done, Insectman. Nightbitch?" The Colonel continued turning the wheel. It was turning out to be an interesting story session.

"It was on one of my patrols. I saw a man beating up a woman outside a pub. She was drunk, I think. I decided to go in and have a talk with him." Nightbitch went on with her story, but it seemed a little harder to tell than Insectman's, "He decided that one woman in one night wasn't enough, but a decade of ballet taught me a thing or two about kicking. He had friends though. I can't really remember how I got out of that." She showed her modified pool cue to all of us, putting it on the table, "But it had something to do with this. I must have gotten it off a pool table. But I had to spend a few days in hospital."

"Nice job, looking out for women in their most vulnerable. We'll see what we can do about you avoiding injury. Battleguy?" The wheel keeps getting turned by the Colonel.

"Uh… I've just started out. I've got nothing." Marty said, this time remaining honest.

"At least you weren't stabbed and run down by a car." I tried my best to cushion his lack of experience.

"Well said, Kick-Ass. Don't worry, you'll get plenty of combat experience here in Justice Forever, I can vouch to that. Kick-Ass, you're up." Again, I had no idea where to begin. I was surrounded by new superheroes, inspired by me. I didn't want to come across as arrogant – that would be as super-unheroic as it could get. Yet at the same time, they needed to know how it was really like out there.

"Yeah well, urm… before I begin, I just want to say that I'm just like the rest of you when I started out, except even worst, probably. I nearly died the first time I engaged." I said – it had to be the right way. _Yeah, that's the ticket_, "Anyway, like I said" _whoops, that might be a mistake there_, "I tried taking on two car thieves, but I was stabbed and knocked down by a car. I have no idea if I even stopped them from carjacking. Then I went up against three street gangsters laying into one guy. I… uh…" _No, don't mention anything about becoming viral_, "I got hurt a little, but it was nothing compared to my first try."

"I was nearly killed when I took up an assignment to warn an ex-boyfriend to leave a girl alone. I couldn't do much. He was a drug dealer with like 5 guards with him. I shocked Rasul with my taser, that's about it. Big Daddy and Hit-Girl saved me." By now, everyone's eyes were on me, intent on sucking up every single word. It was jarring. Having Big-Daddy and Hit-Girl on my resume sure helped a lot with that, at the cost of a bit of my soul each time I say their name. Not to mention, I was hoping to scare them a bit, to get them on their guard, but my stories were having the opposite effect, "Then this Red Mist guy came along. I thought he was one of us. Turns out he was a plant." A hint of familiarity in the Colonel's eyes, then regret, "Big Daddy and Hit-Girl wanted to help us, but it was a story, a trap to get at all of us." I've gone into the black hole once again. The event horizon I felt like tearing my eyes out, like Sam Neil.

"You guys saw on TV what happened. Big Daddy died, Hit-Girl rescued me. I didn't do nothing. I got people killed." I couldn't even tell what was happening to me while I told my story once again. Marty had a hand on my shoulder, and that's saying a lot because he rarely does that. The last time was when my mother died, "Anyway, after that, we hit the D'Amico tower for Big Daddy, me and Hit-Girl. She killed a whole bunch of them. I took out 3, I think, plus Frank D'Amico and his son." It was the blackhole, the point of no return. _Tear my eyes out_!

"Then there was Demoness. I kept running into her." _Because she wanted me dead, but oh no, she wanted me for dessert. Mindy, the same Mindy in my home had wanted to killed me for her daddy_, "I fought her once on some skyscraper… Benson Skyscraper, yeah. But she let me go."

"Then I found her in some alleyway fighting the Grandmaster, which was where I met that swordsman guy. She ran away though." I continued the story, falling into the blackhole. _Tear my eyes out_! I thought someone had asked me a question, something about why Demoness would let me go, but I just continued, "Then one last time on top of the D'Amico Tower. Life came full circle, I suppose, no idea where I got it from. I had help, Grandmaster and Michael. Oh… Huh… And somewhere in between I stopped two men robbing a store. One of them had a gun. I was lucky I lived to take Demoness in."

"I guess that's what you guys will be getting down the road." I said, but it felt surreal all of a sudden. I wasn't even thinking anymore, or even looking at them, but it felt like I was getting them excited. Mission failed. "But like I said, I think I'm just some lousy guy trying to be a hero. You guys are better off."

"Hey, I feel you man." Doctor Gravity offered. I smiled at him offhandedly.

"You've seen lousy guys, Kick-Ass. I was one of them. You're not." The Colonel said. He had this way of comforting people – he didn't need to go out of his way to be mushy. He knew the right words. I was glad to be in Justice Forever just for this guy. Group Therapy was an unwritten part of the team, and I was glad it was, "For what it's worth, you are a hero. A Superhero, a real one. And a real superhero makes mistakes, just like every other person, just like me."

"Thanks. Thanks, Colonel." I said. It was the least I could do.

"Doctor Gravity?" The wheel went on turning. For a moment, I imagined Big Daddy and Hit-Girl here in Justice Forever. They would have a ton of stories to tell, to keep the meeting going for hours. They would have been… Awesome. The fantasy went dead very quickly. In reality, one of them was dead, and the other one might as well be.

"I've got nothing, except last Monday." Doctor Gravity said, in his usual enthusiastic self, "I was meeting Kick-Ass. We did a round together, then these two guys showed up and started beating Kick-Ass up. I was just out of the men's room, but I helped with one of them. They ran, but brought back a whole gang of them. Total of five, I think. Kick-Ass was… Kick-Ass! He took them all out, and I helped with one or two of them. Well done, Kick-Ass!" He slapped me in the shoulder. I smiled at him – at least I had some stamina for that. I was 18 plus, but I felt like 80.

Then it all came down to Colonel Stars and Stripes after we were all done. Long story short, he'd been doing his stuff ever since he was, like 16. He was a runner for a few years at first, before participating in guard duties, raids, ambushes, drive-bys, drug smuggling, you name it, he'd done it. He knew the criminal underground like the back of his hand. He wasn't always with the D'Amicos. He served Italian crime families mostly – race was a sensitive thing in the criminal world. But as Colonel Stars and Stripes, he was just starting out, and even then, he knew where exactly to look. He started small first, experimenting with terrorising a street gang to put them on the defensive so that they'd be too busy to do anything harmful or illegal. "A special operation's coming up, this I can promise you." He said when the meeting was over.

Wednesday was different. We started designing our logo, while Insectman was working on improving his batons. The Colonel got Remembering Tommy to work on finding themselves weapons, even if they were uncomfortable with it. The wife half had a handbag with a brick in it, while the Husband's golf club idea was rejected by the Colonel. They weren't much in a fight, but they were important for everything else, for the less violent things to come. We were shaping up our headquarters – each of us had our own chair now, with our own names written on it. We had a group photo – Remembering Tommy brought the camera.

This was when I found out that Nightbitch had a thing for me. She snuggled up close to me, and I put my arm around her, my experience with Katie Deauxma taught me that much. We had a lot in common – she'd lost her sister, and I'd lost Mindy, the old Mindy. I'd lost my mother, and she'd lost her parents. Okay, she'd lost more, but we all had our losses. I've never made varsity football, or got cast in a school play. Hell, I've never even made honour roll. But if I had, I gotta believe it would have felt a lot like this! Me and Marty, we were in the ultimate clique. It didn't matter that no one else knew. We knew, and that was enough. We felt like rock stars!

By Friday, we had our own team pledge, worked on and agreed upon by consensus of all seven of us. It felt like we'd become the original founding members. It was a pledge we would declare before heading out on patrol, and gladly, I said it everytime, just like everyone. I said it with gusto each time. It'd become a warcry:

_When the cops could_

_No longer protect and serve,_

_Be warned, muggers,_

_Heads up, perv,_

_We got the strength,_

_We got the nerve,_

_To give those in need,_

_What they deserve!_

_Justice Forever!_

But it wasn't always about finding criminals on the streets to arrest. For two hours, we ran a soup kitchen, providing food for the homeless. It was the Colonel's way to make up to those he stole from, but it was a wake-up call for me that things didn't have to always end in violence. _Hit-Girl would not have approved_, I thought uselessly, _and I'd less likely find her handing out meals to the homeless in soup kitchens_. But for the first time, useless thoughts had never felt better. With Justice Forever, there was a semblance of stability in my life for once.

That stability, however, didn't follow me home…


	14. Thy Kingdom Come

**The Descent**

**Chapter 13: Thy Kingdom Come**

Friday nights had never felt better before. It wasn't just the end of school week. It had become one of the many days when I could just live in the moment, be proud of being Kick-Ass again, instead of wandering around like Hamlet's ghost father.

Upon reaching home, I inserted my key into the front door of the house, quietly. I didn't feel like waking up the whole house to my return. Especially Mindy. I had to open the door slowly, as it would creak at certain angles – _might want to talk to dad about it_. It was at this moment, just like on Monday, or Wednesday, that I would wish I didn't have to lock the doors before going to my room, but New York wasn't that safe – perhaps one day, when Justice Forever had done enough…

The stairs creaked, like wooden drums, as I went up the stairs and into my room. There was light underneath the door to my room, but none underneath Mindy's. _Did I forget the lights again_? When I opened the door, I found out that that wasn't the case. _Holy Kryptonite_. Mindy was inside, and still wide awake, scribbling on a piece of paper. It was already an hour past midnight, "Mandy? You should be asleep by now…"

"Dave, I can't… The nightmares…" Mindy moaned, sounding a little exhausted but still keeping up her vigil. I sat down beside her, put my arms around her. It reminded me of her medication. It was running out. They would be gone by Sunday. When I called Dr Paul about it, he said that the nightmares were a normal phase of development. Even normal kids had such anxieties. They would just need to be numbed towards it, "You kept coming back so late. I can't stand it anymore, Dave." She seemed to melt into me like an ice cube. I could even feel water, but it turns out to be her tears.

"You know, Mandy, the nightmares…" I said, trying to think of something, something that would make her go to her room and sleep on her own – it was becoming too difficult, sharing my room with my adopted sister. I must have been the only guy on Earth who does that, "They can't hurt you. They're scary, sure, but…"

"But they're really scary… I'd bleed again." Mindy was almost pleading. I couldn't really understand what her nightmares were about, but they seemed like the same kind as any other – darkness, screaming, kissing… The last being the anxiety that even I as a kid face. "Can I still sleep here with you?"

"Mandy… You can't keep sleeping in my room!" I couldn't help but to be frustrated, but I tried not to sound too much like it. I had doubts that I pulled it off pretty good. I was hoping that her gullibility didn't expire today, "that's why people have rooms, you know. Mandy, you need to be brave. It will stop soon, I promise."

"Fine." Fat chance. Mindy had grown a little mature faster than I thought she would. Struggling out of my embrace, she inched away from me, stood up with a start. She was angry again. The only thing I could be happy with was that it wasn't explosive. I stared out the window – _how did it come to this again_? Before I knew it, I felt a pillow whamming hard across half my face, my spectacles flying in the same direction. I scrambled to pick it up. I could barely see, but I saw and hear Mindy stomping off. Scratch that, she was just as explosive, but it was a controlled explosion. It was even worse. It was like watching Dr Robert Banner turning into _The Incredible Hulk_ with plenty of gore and blood thrown in.

Before she crossed the room, she turned around again, just as I managed to get my glasses back on. Looking at her, I saw her – beads of tears falling, but not streams of them which was the usual. Her fists were clenched, knuckles jutting out. The same knuckles as Hit-Girl's. I couldn't help but to stare at them, to notice how jagged and tough they remained, even if the flesh around it were no longer toned. Her face was a little red, and it wasn't shame. She looked like she was holding a lot back, tears for one, but it looked like it was more than that. I was actually a little afraid. Well, I was fucking terrified that I actually stood up half-firm, backing away – thinking that I was in for it. "Mandy? Whoa- Hey…"

"You said you were sorry." I could feel her shaking, holding back an angry scream. Beads of tears were dropping, but she was holding them back admirably, "You said you won't go every day." I came forward a little. I wanted to hold her once again, show her that she was still loved as much, but she backed away just as much.

"Mandy, come on! You know how important it is for me to help people in the city." I tried reasoning with her, thinking that with her gullibility out of the way, a little rationality might make headway into her.

"What about me? I'm your sister!" Her voice was loud but shaking – the dam had broken. With that, she turned and opened the door, slammed it shut. Her footsteps trailed away, and I could hear a door slamming again.

Thinking back, Mindy was right. I'd gone overboard. My schedule with Justice Forever meant meetings, trainings and duties on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, but I'd been going elsewhere other than home with Marty on Tuesday and Thursday. Despite Colonel Stars and Stripes' pacifistic approach towards crimefighting, I'd decided to learn from my experience a little. The villains were all gun-toting crack-shots. I'd been lucky so far – either that or I had a pair of miniguns on my back. I was nearly shot before I fought Mindy as Demoness on the D'Amico Tower. Hence, I'd decided to learn a little about guns and modern warfare, and Marty readily agreed.

So on Tuesday and Thursday, we were down at a gun range offering practical lessons in gun handling, then paintball after that. We'd learnt quite a bit. Sure, we won't shoot straight sometimes… half the time, but we knew how to shoot. A little. At paintball, we had some ideas about shooting and avoiding getting shot. We were teamed up with strangers, against strangers, and we had one or two regulars on our side. They taught us a thing or two about taking cover, providing covering fire, stuff like that. It gave us confidence, even if we caused our team to lose. It gave me an edge, but Mindy was right. I knew right from the beginning that I'd be risking a relapse in her, and I fell right into that without putting up much of a fight. Worse of all, I didn't even notice.

I waited for a bit, then tried to check on Mindy. I knocked on her door. No response. I knocked again, and for a bit, there was still nothing. All kinds of things were flashing before my mind. She could be doing anything in there, anything from crying to planning my murder to hanging herself. I could no longer be sure, but then came my reply, "Go away, I don't ever want to talk to you ever again." That was what she said before, so I thought to myself: _maybe we'd make up in the morning_. At the same time, somewhere in the back of my skull, I couldn't help but to rule out 'twice's the charm' as a good saying.

Yet, I couldn't sleep. I was always anticipating the worse. I imagined running into her room after hearing a noise, to find her hanging on a noose. I imagined her crawling through the window, with a mask and knife to slit my throat. I imagined her in the same position as me, unable to get a wink of sleep…

The digital clock on my table chimed once. Looking around it, I saw that it was 4 o'clock. I was still afraid. I tried turning on the TV, but it helped little to nothing. It was the 2000s hour. Westlife was on MTV – little wonder, considering that they were a few years outdated, or a lifetime in pop culture terms. My eyes opened and shut, as vague memories surfaced from my younger days, slowly overpowered by recent memory.

_I remember all my life_

_Raining down as cold as ice_

_shadows of a man_

_A face through a window_

_Crying in the night_

_The night goes into_

The television blared, softened by my remote. I dropped the remote, never to be seen again. My arm felt numb. Couldn't move my legs.

_Morning, just another day_

_Happy people pass my way_

_Looking in their eyes_

_I see a memory_

_I never realized_

_how happy you made me, oh Mandy_

I was falling asleep, reality crashing into dreams, and dream invading reality. _Mindy_…

_Well you came and you gave without taking_

_but I sent you away, oh Mandy_

_well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking_

_And I need you today, oh Mandy_

What have I done this time what did I do again Mindy?

_I'm standing on the edge of time_

_I´ve Walked away when love was mine_

_Caught up in a world of uphill climbing_

_The tears are in my mind_

_And nothing is rhyming, oh Mandy_

To give those in need what they deserve Justice Forever Justice Mindy what I do who do I choose?

_Well you came and you gave without taking_

_but I sent you away, oh Mandy_

_well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking_

_And I need you today, oh Mandy_

I'm sorry so sorry Mindy I just I can't this would have been what you always wanted had you not been Mandy I need you Mindy…

_Yesterday's a dream I face the morning_

_Crying on a breeze_

_the pain is calling, oh Mandy_

What do I do Mindy what do I do everywhere I turn pain is calling its always calling…

_Well you came and you gave without taking_

_but I sent you away, oh Mandy_

_well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking_

_And I need you today, oh Mandy_

_Mindy… _What do I do?

_You came and you gave without taking_

_but I sent you away, oh Mandy_

_You kissed me and stopped me from shaking_

_And I need you!_

_Mindy_… Please…

_Oh Mandy won't you listen to what I've got to say _

_Oh baby dont you let me throw it all away _

_Oh Mandy won't you listen to what I've got to say _

_and I need you today oh Mandy..._

**Morning…**

I woke up at the same time as usual. 8 o'clock. Traces of Westlife was still whispering in my mind, but were quickly replaced by the latest song by Rihanna, who Mindy last professed to be her favourite singer, then silence as I found my remote controller again and switched the TV off. It deserved its rest.

On my way to the bathroom for my usual shower and toothpaste, I decided to poke my head into Mindy's room. I was concerned, actually worried that one of my insane midnight projections of her fate might actually be true. I knocked on the door. No response. I knocked again. My heart skipped a beat – nothing. I waited for an answer, but it didn't come like the last time, so I opened the door, and poked my head. I was dead worried, but there was no Mindy in her bedroom. Her bed was messy but empty. Mindy wasn't in bed, only Big Teddy, this huge, black teddy bear with a yellow ribbon around its neck. I'd bought it for her, for her belated 11th birthday. My heart skipped a few beats. "Mandy?" I flew into her room, checked every possible place she could be at. Under the bed, in the cabinet, but there was nothing.

"Mandy!" I checked the bathroom, but there was nothing. I even went back to check my own room… with careful discretion in case she really did decide to come at me with a knife. Nothing. I flew down the stairs, looking behind television and couches, outside. Nothing. That was when I saw her in the kitchen.

Mindy looked horrible. she was in her pyjamas, sitting down on a dining chair, her arms crossed, her eyes glaring at the bowl of cereal she prepared herself – milk had spilled all around the bowl, and there was a trail from the counter, down to the floor and up to the table, to it. The container of milk was still on the counter, collecting dew.

I would never have thought I'd say this, but those were some evil eyes on Mindy. She glared ceaselessly at her bowl of cereal, as if there was a replica of me hanging by the noose somewhere inside. Blood was coming out of her nose, dripping down her mouth, her chin and finally forming droplets that splashed on the floor. She looked pissed, extremely pissed, for the first time since she was adopted into my family. Dad wasn't at home; otherwise I would be a really dead Dave.

"Mandy?" I called out to her, but she didn't respond. She continued crossing her arms, glaring at her cereals. I was scared half to death, but I took steps towards her – I had to keep reminding myself that she was Mandy, not Mindy nor Hit-Girl nor Demoness, or at least I believe so. I had to keep reminding myself that I love her, that she was my sister, "Mandy, what happened?"

She didn't reply immediately. Then it hit me that those eyes on her head weren't evil – she was just a kid who felt disenchanted. I'd forced an image of Hit-Girl on her, just like I always did. Or did I? "You know what happened, Dave." She finally said, her body made of stone and her eyes still glaring at her bowl of cereal, like the eyes of a cobra.

"What was it about?" I sat down beside her, against my better judgement. Her hair had grown halfway to waist-length. Surprisingly, it fits her well.

"The same as last time." She replied, cold as ever.

"Oh God... I'm so sorry, Mandy." I apologised – I felt responsible. In fact, I was responsible. I certainly weren't coming up with a solution. I apologised, but it felt like my apology had no currency anymore. Mindy didn't flinch. I reached out to her, but when I touched her hair, she pushed my hand away. The blood on her face, at least, wasn't as bad as the last time. It didn't cover half her face or something – it was a stream of blood from her nostrils down her mouth, to her chin then dripping off. It wasn't much – plus Dr Paul called it normal, just as bleeding through the nose was. Still, it looked bad enough that I had to do something about it.

I walked over to the kitchen counters and grabbed a few paper towels, but when I tried to wipe the blood and tears on her face away, she tore away from my grip as she struggled against me. "NO! Go away!" She shook her head in defiance, and drops of blood splattered on the table, went into the bowl of milk and cereal, mixing in with the milk spilled on the table. I tried to approach her again, but before I could even brush her mouth with the paper towel, she pushed me hard enough that I crashed into the kitchen counter, my spine meeting a sharp edge. It hurts like nothing I was used to – it was a part of my body with proper nerves and without plates, "I said no!" She cried in rage.

She wouldn't even let me fix things, even when I really wanted to. I could feel rage building up in myself – I remembered all the things I'd done for her, things that a normal elder brother wouldn't have done. Even with me gone for an entire week, I knew I'd done more than what the average brother I heard tell about could ever do in a lifetime. The pain along my back did the rest to set me off. Before I thought things through, I stomped towards her.

Gave her a hard slap in the face.

I could hear the sound of my palm smacking her soft cheek, hard.

I regretted it in no time at all after that.

It almost appeared as if it didn't register, but moments into us freezing, she felt her struck cheek with her hand, as if reaffirming if the slap was there, then started cracking up, crying once again. Returning to her seat, she cried there, just like how she used to, before her explosive temper started. She clutched the cheek I slapped as if it was a bullet wound, though with Mindy being Mandy, it might as well be.

But at least she allowed me to wipe her face while she cried. Was this how being a father was like? It seemed a little too early for me to learn this stuff as a substitute dad of sorts, and a little too late for me to learn this stuff as an elder brother.

The next thing I knew, we were hugging and apologising to each other again, but even as I had her in my arms, I knew that things were getting tougher, especially with my superhero lifestyle on the side, dominating.

I took Mindy out for lunch as a way to make things up. I was burning through my wallet for Mindy – but dad would be pleased enough to help with that. It wasn't anything upscale – a diner, but one of the best of that sort, at least in my opinion. For lunch, we had burgers and fries. Mindy ordered hot fudge sundae for dessert. I had nothing. I didn't want to put on weight for what was to come – it sounded like Colonel Stars and Stripes' special operation was coming anytime.

"It's really good! Was it my favourite before the accident?" Mindy exclaimed after taking a bite of her dessert. Taking a good, hard look at her, I went with yes. She seemed to quiver at the taste of the hot fudge sundae, though I really had no idea if she had even tasted such a thing before, "Here, try it, Dave." She passed the long, thin spoon she was using to me. I took a bite, and the flavour exploded in my mouth. "I told you so!" It was unbelievable that anything had ever happened this morning and yesterday night. In the midst of us sharing a sundae and taking photos of the two of us with her internet-unconnected cellphone, it was hard to believe that there was any bad blood between us. Were we both bipolar cases? My life was a storm in an ocean.

"Mandy." I said after we were done with the sundae, "I want you to remember this moment. There will always be good times and bad times… so why not remember the best times?" _Like in my superhero career, but that's an extreme example, and I can't tell Mindy that_.

"But what about tonight? And tomorrow night?" The same question came again. Taking in a deep breath, I gave myself a few seconds to think. _Better not screw things up again_… But thankfully, I've had ideas on the way to the diner.

"Tell you what, I'll sit beside you, maybe read you a book until you fall asleep. Deal?" Dad had always wanted to do something like this, but with Mindy to take care of, he needed to work harder, and was hence always too tired to do much. He'd been falling asleep in the middle of things these days.

"I'd love that." She agreed readily. For a while, we sat there – it was peaceful in the diner. There weren't a lot of customers. Soon enough, Mindy fell asleep leaning against my shoulder. I followed soon afterwards. It must have been the sundae, plus a poor night's sleep.

**Later that Night…**

"People should get what they deserve." We were patrolling on the streets when Colonel Stars and Stripes went into teacher mode, not that it was a bad thing. We were all getting our kicks from it. It felt like being in a kung-fu movie, taking lessons from a master. I'd asked what he meant when he suggested the last part of Justice Forever's pledge: _To give those in need, what they deserve!_ "Family living in the street deserves a hot meal. Inebriated college girl deserves to make it home safe at night."

"And a pervert? Paedophile?" He continued with a look of extreme disgust written all over his face. He must have seen a lot of them. As it turns out, his definition of those in need didn't strictly cover victims or would be victims. Borrowing a sausage from my hotdog, he dangled it next to his dog's face, "Deserves a visit from Eisenhower."

"Schpunks!" The Colonel commanded, and the Eisenhower's jaws latched onto the sausage savagely (and I was actually afraid Eisenhower would latch onto mine, so I covered my privates). With the force of discipline it did not eat the sausage until its master gave it permission to. All that training at headquarters with the dildo mannequin paid off, though I suspected that Eisenhower knew such a command long before any of us joined Colonel Stars and Stripes.

**Meanwhile…**

"Bowie… Constitution… Napalm…" I was writing down even more words I could remember. There were many of them, more than I could check on the dictionary. Some of them weren't even found on the dictionary, and I would worry that I was just being stupid.

It was then I heard something. It sounded like a voice, but I couldn't tell whose it was, so I walked out of my room. "Dave?" I called out, hoping that he came back early, but when I looked at my _Spongebob_ watch, it was only 9:35.

Then there he was, on the stairs. It wasn't God in his brown jacket and sweater and jeans, but it was this man in a black suit, what looked like a knight's armour. I saw knights on books before, and he looked like that. Like God, he was walking down the stairs. I was terrified, but I followed him. I couldn't help myself. I felt drawn to him, as if he was a friend, as if I owed him something.

"Hello?" I went down the stairs after him. The living room was dark, with only the TV shining light everywhere. Daddy was asleep on the couch. He was tired from work. The man in black armour had a cape on, and I saw it billowing, flitting away down to the basement. It was just like last time. I didn't want to go down and disobey Dave and Daddy, but… The man in black armour – Was he a friend? I wanted to follow him…

This time, I went to the kitchen and took a flashlight from the kitchen. I was afraid I might see the bloody arm from the boxes again.

I went down the wooden stairs again. I expected it to creak, but it frightened me all the same. I was afraid the man in black armour wasn't as friendly as I thought he was. I held my heart and cross necklace, and said my prayer again, "My Father in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…"

I reached the foot of the stairs. The basement was a little emptier than it was. The workbench no longer had that yellow utility belt thing on it anymore. "Thy Kingdom come…"

An arm reached out from the boxes. It still scared me, even if I expected it. I shined my torchlight on it. Blood. The arm came further out. I stepped back. A head pops out, which was when I realised that the skin of this thing was pale – some parts of her weren't covered in blood. The hair on its head was snow white. Its eyes were blood red, a little dark red. "Help me!" It was a she, and she was crying for me, her arms reaching for me. I didn't know what to do. I was afraid she might hurt me.

"Please!" She was in pain. Her voice was strained. In the end, I decided to pull her out. Help her the way Dave helped me. I could soon see her chest, her other arm. She was naked, entirely. Her legs pulled through, and she slumped to the ground, and as soon as she did she curled up. She was covered in blood. She reminded me of new-born babies, like the ones I saw on my science textbook. On the ground, she shivered and I could see goosebumps , "C-cold… Please."

A box full of old clothes had tumbled over. I took a few, wanting to help her, clean her. I wasn't afraid anymore. She looked even more afraid than I was. She was crying, but I didn't know what made her cry. When I wanted to start cleaning her, she pulled away, as if I would hurt her, "Hey, it's okay, I won't…" I had to soothe her before I start.

I wiped the blood away. There was a lot of it. Where did they come from? It took a lot of dresses before I could see her snow white skin. The snow white girl seemed older than me. Her chest was larger, and she was taller than I was. Who was she?

**Out in the City…**

As we were patrolling, people were constantly taking videos and photos of us. For a week or two now, we dominated Youtube and photo sites. We would walk down sidewalks, delta formation, keeping right for people to pass by, this group of seven superheroes with Colonel Stars and Stripes at the head, Eisenhower by his side. We were a sensation, and it was about to get even better than that…

Up ahead was a subway station. Like the gutters spewing forth rainwater, it was always disgorging people transiting from one part of New York City to the next. This time though, the flow was even faster. People were running out, not jogging, but trying to get away from something, screaming and shouting. "Forward advance! God's intervention, tonight!" The Colonel ordered as he ran towards the subway, his dog trotting by his side. We followed him, maintaining roughly our Delta formation.

**Back Home…**

The snow white girl lay in a corner. I covered her up with rags, so that she would feel warm, and also so that she won't be… naked. She looked out cold, but when I got close to her again, she opened her dark red eyes. Her eyes were scary. It was as if she could read my mind with those eyes.

"Who are you?" I asked her as she stared into my eyes. _How did she get here to begin with_? _Why was she in the basement, bloody and naked_?

"I- They call me… Demoness." The red-eyed girl said. It sounded like a nasty name. She did look a little like a Demon. Yet she seemed just as innocent like me, and harmless. She looked like she was the one who was harmed instead. Demoness started crying again soon after saying her name.

"Demoness? It's fine, don't cry. You're safe here…" I felt like Dave. This time, I became the one to comfort a little girl, though she was older than me, "What happened, Demoness?" I tried to hold her, but she shrunk away from me, her face grimacing – she was crying, afraid.

"They- They killed my daddy." Demoness replied in between sobs. I was shocked by what she said.

**Back Out…**

There was fighting in the subway. Knives and sticks were flashing between 10 or so men who were largely black. There were one or two Hispanics, and a white. "Rivalry between the Bloods and the Crips." Colonel Stars and Stripes commented, and stopped us. The feuding gangsters were too busy with their own problems that they didn't notice the seven superheroes watching them.

"Red signs and Chicago Bulls are the Bloods, the others Crips." The Colonel explained with renewed urgency. I nodded at the new info, ready for it. The rest of the team were frozen. It was a huge step from kicking mannequins and palming thin air to taking down street gangs, "Eisenhower, stay. The rest of you, spread out and encircle, take down those outside then in."

Already, a few of the gangsters had fallen, but I saw something else amongst them, someone familiar. A jagged 8-figure mask, totally black costume. He was a fellow superhero, small framed but well-toned. I thought back as I took my position, and it occurred to me – I'd seen him on the net before, someone I dismissed as someone who didn't look like a team player. It was The Enforcer, the _Punisher_ look-alike minus the guns and gadgets, the guy who patrols the subways exclusively. He must have tried to stop them, and failed miserably. Being a superhero meant taking on missions no matter the difficulty and cost. It seemed that The Enforcer knew that, and he could have died for it. Bound by a brotherhood of costumes, I felt inclined to help him, and quick.

**Back Home…**

"They- They were all res...ponsible." The Demoness struggled to put her words out. She was still shaking, but I didn't know if it was the cold anymore. _How did she get here_? _Did she crawl through the basement windows_?

"Demoness… What happened? Who's they?" I could not understand what she was describing. Yet I couldn't understand why, but it seemed familiar somehow. It felt like 'Déjà vu' – Mrs Davies called it that when I told her about things that felt familiar but weren't.

"I'm a-alone now because of them." The Demoness was still shaking. I could see her trying not to chatter her teeth. She was shaking so hard – she seemed so weak and afraid. I felt sorry for her.

"De-Demoness? You're not alone anymore. I'm here." I said. Somehow, it felt like I sounded different. My head felt a little dizzy, heavy. I reached for her hand, and this time, she did not shrink away from me. I was a little afraid of her and myself, so I didn't do it quick. When I finally touched her snow white hand and held it, it felt cold and soft. Her hand was weak. I could barely feel it closing in around mine.

"Good." For the first time, she smiled. I saw her face clearly even though it was dark. Dave said that our eyes were like that when we stayed in the dark for some time. I saw the corner of her lips and eyes curling up. I felt happy for her that she could still smile, but at the same time, she was scaring me. The grip of her hand tightened. I felt my own hand tighten around my necklace.

**Back out…**

We started pulling gangsters back, Bloods or Crips, it matters little. It became a 3-way battle, but with the criminals divided and weakening each other, it was surprisingly easy. With a baton, I snatched one of them by the neck and pulled him back, tripping him – he fell back first, and with my free hand, I drew a taser and shocked him. It was easier that way.

Around the other end, Marty was timid at first, but eventually he dived in – not the best way to start things – and rammed one of them; a Crips in rapper style clothes, against the wall, pinning him there. The Latino guy was stuck, his knife dangling uselessly by his side. The shield was huge enough to immobilize him, but Marty was stuck too, as he looked like he didn't know what to do then.

A huge fellow with a Chicago Bulls basketball jersey drew an old looking pistol from the back of his pants, pointed it right at Colonel Stars and Stripes' forehead, right between the eyes, about to fire but the Colonel nonchalantly snatched his gunhand by the wrist, pushed it up before he fired. It went overhead, poking a hole in the ceiling. He jammed his axe handle into the huge Bloods member's stomach, then just below the lungs, and gave him a headbutt and arm-twisted him, forcing him to drop his old pistol.

"Battleguy, look out!" I shouted. Another Crips was coming at him, about to try to free his gang friend. Luckily, the husband half of Remembering Tommy was on the case – his golf club idea was rejected, but he brought a whole bag of them, which the Colonel let slip. He had two in his hands, and he swung them sideways at the Crips gang member. One of them ended up in his face and the other in the chest. He fell flat quickly.

"Thanks!" Marty shouted back, as he was still considering what to do with the gangster he pinned down. Eventually, he decided to ram the Crips member against the wall repeatedly, and eventually he went out cold. It was the most unconventional thing I had ever seen, but for a _Captain America_ without superhuman powers, it was good enough.

In the meantime, Nightbitch and Doctor Gravity was kicking ass – their long polearms were ideal for the situation. They were painful, but won't kill. They gave good reach, so they were covered. I saw Nightbitch tripping one of them before knocking him out with a stick to the face, and Doctor Gravity pummeling one into submission. Out of the corner of my eyes, Insectman was having the time of his life shocking another gang member, proving that his contraption works on the field – and it wasn't his first time since the fight started.

One of them tried to run away, probably to call more people in, but I spotted him quickly, dropped my right baton for my right taser, and shot him a pair of probes in the back. He fell flat on the ground, convulsing as if having a fit. "Well done!" I heard the Colonel praising me – he was long done with the huge Bloods member wielding a pistol, and was beating back down a gang member who tried to get up again.

**Back Home…**

"What's your name?" Demoness asked. She was no longer shaking, or as afraid. She had calmed down a bit.

"Oh… M-my name is Mandy Lizoo- Lizewski…" I said, my heart beating fast. I was sitting beside her, still holding her hand. It was tightening more and more. I was a little afraid. It was scared she might not let go. She looked familiar, and she looked dangerous.

"But are you sure that's your name?" It was an odd question from this snow white girl – We'd just met, and yet she was acting as if she knew me very well.

"Yes!" I replied confidently, and I felt a bit stung. _Why would she ask such a thing_? Yet, when I thought about my name, it felt… weightless or shallow. It felt like it didn't fit at all. Was I thinking too much? I had never thought about it this way before, and yet it was my name. Dave told me my name, "No… Yes." I didn't feel as confident anymore. But I didn't want to lose to her.

I could feel her holding my hand tight. She was scaring me! I tried to pull my hand away, but it was too tight. "Let go of me!" I cried, and I pulled harder, but she was stronger than me. I tried to stand up, but she pulled me back down. I landed on my knees. It hurts! Demoness leaned forward, the rags I piled on top of her falling off, revealing her bare chest. I pulled, but I couldn't get away.

"I need a favour from you, darling dear!" She snarled. I was crying. It seemed like she was going to hurt me, or do something to me. I felt her other hand around my throat, and she leaned in closer. I could see her red eyes so clearly. Her face got closer.

Then there was smoke. I smelt smoke coming in from behind me. It smelt like something was burning. There was a flash of yellow light, and it must have scared Demoness, because she fell back, and finally let go of me. Because I was pulling myself away from her hard, I fell on my bum, and had to crawl away from her. I crawled towards the yellow light and smoke, but the light went out quickly.

My hands felt weird, and when I looked at them, I saw that they were shaking, as if I was holding a knife. A familiar feeling went down my nose, nostrils and mouth. I was bleeding again.

**Back Out…**

Even when we'd beaten everyone into submission, it was difficult to secure them once and for all. There were so many of them, and only 7 of us, 3 of whom (namely Remembering Tommy and Marty) didn't bring any restraining devices whatsoever. It took time to handcuff (Me, Nightbitch and Insectman had cuffs) or zip tie them all.

Every once in a while, one or two of them would try to get up and fight or run again. Nightbitch had to drive her heel down on one, which reminded me awkwardly of a dominatrix, before handcuffing him. Marty was consistently ramming back down gangsters. Remembering Tommy had to tackle a runner down before flooring him again. We ran out of handcuffs after 6 gangsters.

One guy took the opportunity to grab the pistol the huge Bloods member dropped and actually took aim at me and fired, but the Colonel drove his booted foot down on his arm quickly. He missed. "The next loser who tries anything funny… Eisenhower! At the ready!"

Colonel Stars and Stripe's dog was a good crowd controller. We worked quickly to zip tie the rest. Somehow, the last guy we were supposed to zip tie did not get the hint, and took off as fast as he could for the stairs leading out. "Eisenhower, Schpunks!" The Colonel ordered without even looking as he was zip tying another gangster.

The last escapee wasn't huge. Cue Eisenhower pouncing on him, and when he was down, the dog lunged at his privates. We didn't have any problems after that.

**Back Home…**

When I turned to see what was making the yellow light, I saw him again, the knight in black armour. Smoke was coming off him, and I could see from around his mouth that he was burnt. I could smell cooked meat. Yet he was standing there. If I was burnt, I knew I would be crying and screaming and kicking, but he wasn't even crying in pain.

As I looked at him, I saw his mouth opening and closing, like he was whispering something, saying something to me. But I couldn't hear. I couldn't hear anything he said at all. I felt the sudden need to hear what he had to say, but I couldn't. I came up with the idea of reading his lips, but I couldn't make anything out.

When I turned around in fear that Demoness might try to grab me again, I saw that she was suddenly gone, missing, as if she was never there in the first place. The rags I used to clean her were no longer red, and the rags I threw on top of her were all on the floor, in a pile.

I turned back around to see the knight in black armour again, but he was gone too. I was utterly confused – I wanted to hear him speak. I felt it suddenly so, so much, and I felt sad all of a sudden. _What if I could never hear him speak again_? I was utterly confused.

I went back up the wooden stairs, to the living room, as I wiped away the blood on my face. I felt very sad all of the sudden. It felt as if I had lost something, as if I had lost a lot, and yet I didn't know what I've lost. I didn't know what was missing.

**Back Out…**

The police arrived shortly after we were done, started taking over from us. We were commended for our efforts, and I felt like it was well deserved, considering that I was nearly shot again, and we were all bruised one way or the other. At least no one was really hurt – the merits of being in a superhero team were immediately obvious. Alone, we break easily and together we were unshakeable. If even _Superman_ or the _Green Lantern_ needs a Justice League, why not us?

All around, camera flashes and cheers were going off. Chances were, we'd already become a bigger hit than we were ever before within the minute. It seemed impossible, but it also means we were expanding our realm, going where no real life superheroes had gone before.

We pulled The Enforcer to the side. As it turns out, he was alive, but badly beaten. It reminded me of an idea me and Marty had – taking up First Aid training. Luckily for us, Colonel Stars and Stripes knew quite a bit about it. "Even the bad guys knew the value of first aid. I know a thing or two, both from instructors and… experience." He said as he palpitated the Enforcer, his arms and legs, "God's intervention indeed. No broken bones, not even a concussion. You're a tough nut, buddy."

We gained a new member instantly. He signed up on the spot.

**Later…**

"Good job." The Colonel said to Doctor Gravity before the white atom took his leave. He'd decided that the team should be dismissed a little earlier due to the encounter with the Bloods and the Crips. It was a pragmatic decision – even I was a little shaken. It had been a long time since I'd walked up to such a large crowd – in fact, I'd never walked up to such a large crowd. It was due to my membership in Justice Forever that I wasn't swimming with the fishes.

In the meantime, I was saying goodnight to Remembering Tommy, who were just coming up from the Subway, having volunteered to be our custodian and saw the Enforcer to the next train, giving him all the information a new member needs.

"Goodnight, Colonel." I wished the leader of Justice Forever. I bowed a little unconsciously – I had that much respect for him. He certainly wasn't a pushover in a real fight – he certainly knew his stuff. His resume wasn't faked like Marty's old one was, "Thanks for everything."

"No, son, thank you." He offered in return, his eyes straight into mine, intense. I could barely meet his gaze, that purposeful look you get from a man of vision. It was high-level stuff, "You showed us that every man could make a difference. Without Kick-Ass, none of us would be here."

"That's from the heart." He admitted with the stars-end of his axe handle on his chest, as if taking an oath or pledge, "Don't let it go to your head." I smiled – by this time, nothing could. I was still on the lookout for them, to spot any mistakes they might make that I had made before.

When the Colonel was gone, there was only me and Nightbitch left outside the Subway station entrance. We decided to celebrate at the nearest public restroom, to consummate our mutual interest in each other. I just wish we didn't have to leave our masks on.


	15. Thy Will Be Done

**The Descent**

**Chapter 14: Thy Will Be Done**

**26 June 2011, Sunday**

Dave kept his promise. He said that he would read me a story during bedtime and he did. Last night, he sat beside me. He had this old book with him. He said that it was from the attic, and he loved it as a child. The book he read to me was 'Little Red Riding Hood'. It was a great story. When the Big Bad Wolf tried to take Little Red Riding Hood, a woodsman came and saved her. But why can't Little Red Riding Hood save herself?

I still had trouble sleeping after that. Dave stayed with me, sitting next to me. We weren't talking, but I like it when it was just the two of us in a cosy room, even if we were quiet. But Dave fell asleep on the chair, and I still couldn't sleep.

It took me an hour or two after Dave to sleep, because I was still thinking about what happened in the basement. Demoness wanted to hurt me, but the black knight saved me. But what was she trying to say? She asked if I am sure if Mandy was my name, and when I thought about it, it felt as if... My name didn't seem familiar. It didn't have the 'Déjà vu' feeling that Mrs Davies talked about. But what could my name be? Besides Mandy Lizewski? I don't trust the Demoness.

But at least when I woke up, I don't remember nightmares and I did not bleed. We went to church today, just like every other Sundays. It was after the service that I saw her again. Demoness. We were outside the church, because we were leaving. Demoness had a brown cloak wrapped around her, and boots for her feet. I knew it was her, because I saw the red eyes and white hair.

But she was looking at Sal Bertolinni. She didn't seem to care about me. Was that a good thing? When I turned to look at Sal confusingly and then back to Demoness again, she was gone.

**27 June 2011, Monday**

I'm still having trouble sleeping. Last night, my poor Dave had to sleep in the chair again. I feel really bad about it. Yet I can't help but to think about everything, about Demoness, about the black knight, about the odd feeling in my name, about everything Dave said. It felt as if things weren't real anymore.

I could still remember the black knight, and the way his mouth moved. I had been trying to read his lips. I think I could make out a few words. I think they were: Don't, and Dave. I said Dave's name so many times that it wasn't difficult when I think about it.

Yet I still can't understand anything – it's so frustrating! But when I think about it, it felt like the black knight was protecting me from Demoness, so I think he was asking me not to listen to Demoness, or go near her. But what was he trying to tell me about Dave?

Was it about the things he said? About how they didn't feel real anymore? He seemed to be hiding something from me, and he was gone for so long these days. I wanted to find out everything. I want Dave back.

It was after school when I decided to find out more. As Dave got on his bike, he waved and told me to enjoy my time at Pete's house. I was on my own bicycle, which was blue. Then Dave cycled off – when I asked him where he was helping people, he said that he was volunteering in the Good Samaritan Hotline. I didn't know what it was, but I didn't know if that was where he was going.

I lied. I lied to both Daddy and Dave. I wasn't going to Pete's house. I was going to follow Dave. I would feel sad whenever I lied, but it felt like something I had to do. Things did not feel right. I want Dave back.

I took off after him when he wasn't looking. I was a little far from him, but I could still see him. Dave really knows how to ride a bicycle, so I had to pedal really hard to follow him. But he was too fast. He was further away after a while, after he made a turn, and in the next turn, he disappeared!

I had to go to Pete's place in the end. But at least he's made two more friends, Josephine and Mark, from a community centre, and when I came over, they were there. We played Monopoly together.

When I got back home, it was dinner time. After dinner, I went up to my room to do my homework. Then it happened…

…

I was writing new words down, such as Uzi, manipulation and dreg. I couldn't even understand most of them, and I couldn't even find most of them on the dictionary either. Mrs Davies won't even tell me what they were. She would just tell me to find some other words. When I had to do my math homework, I couldn't concentrate anymore. I wish I could find out everything. I felt very upset.

"Aw… Feeling down now, are you?" It was then that Demoness came to my room. I didn't even see her enter. She was like a ghost. I didn't hear the door open. My window was, so she might have come through there. She was lying on my bed. She was no longer naked – she had a towel around her body. The black knight saved me from her, and I think he didn't want me to go near her, so I didn't. I stayed at my desk. I tried to ignore her, "The silent treatment? You're becoming tougher, aren't you?"

I could hear her coming closer. She got off the bed and walked towards me. I could hear her feet pattering on the floor. I couldn't help but to cringe. I didn't want her close to me, but she was stronger than me. I felt her hands on my shoulder, and her face pressing next to mine. It reminded me of Dave. He did that before. She was doing the same thing Dave did to me, but I didn't like it. It made me angry. "Go away!" I shouted as I pushed my chair back and turned around, shaking her off. I was surprised when Demoness let go.

"Good. It's good to be angry. It's better than being a scared little girl!" She grinned and laughed as I was standing there. I could feel my hands going tight. I could feel my fists. But I didn't know what to do. I wanted to run, but she was standing between me and the door, "All this for little old Dave Lizewski. You know, I can help you."

"But why do you want to help?" I asked Demoness. It was hard, but I tried not to be afraid.

"We both want the same thing. You want Dave, so do I." She said. I didn't trust her. I couldn't trust her. She wouldn't let go of me in the basement.

"Why do you want Dave?" I was confused. I didn't know that Demoness knew Dave. Demoness laughed when she heard my question. I could hear her so clearly. She was close to me, but not close enough to touch me.

"Silly girl. You do know that I'm your guardian angel, do you?" Demoness said. What she said made sense – how else could she get in the house that way? And then get out so quickly? But she didn't look like a guardian angel in the basement, "That's why I'm heavenly white! I want Dave so that you could… have him."

"Listen, I know I scared you in the basement." Demoness continued. She sounded convincing. She was explaining everything away, "but I was cold, wet and I was in pain. It hurts to be born again." _Born again_? Like being a Christian? Was the Demoness trying to trick me? I knew she wasn't trying to hurt me, because she was stronger than me. I knew she won't harm Dave or Daddy, because she could have done that anytime.

"Okay…" I finally said. Demoness smiled when I agreed, but I didn't like her kind of smile. It didn't seem like the same kind as Dave's and Daddy's or even Pete's when they smiled, "You can help…"

"Here, sit down right next to me." Demoness was in my bed again, and she was inviting me to her. She was patting the spot she wanted me to sit. I didn't want to at first, but I sat right next to her in the end. I was afraid, but at the same time I wanted her to help me. I felt her arm around my shoulders and her head leaning on mine. She felt light, but strong. "You're following Dave to where he's going, right?" _How did you know about my plan_? _Were you watching me_?

"Yes…" I said, but I was more worried about the way Demoness was touching me. She was so close to me that I could feel her breathing.

"But you're too slow." Demoness said. I remembered when I lost Dave. I felt sad then, "Well, it's easy, really." She started putting her fingers on my thigh. I was shocked, but I felt her arm around my shoulder, and I didn't want to move in case she gets angry or upset. With her finger, she seemed to be drawing a map for me to follow.

"This is Dave. He took a few turns." I could feel her finger sliding around my thigh, like the way Dave was cycling. It felt wrong and… Mrs Davies would call it 'perverted'. She didn't feel like a guardian angel, yet… she was helping me, "So why don't you scurry across the neighbourhood before he leaves…" She walked her fingers across my thigh. I felt like crying, but I didn't want to lose to her, "and wait here for him to pass, then follow him again?"

"Oh, and by the way, do you have a hairclip?" The Demoness asked, but at least her fingers were no longer on my thigh.

"Yes…" I took the Hello Kitty hairclip Daddy bought me out of my hair. My hair fell back over my ear. _Why would I need a hairclip_?

"Pull it apart." The Demoness told me. I didn't listen to her this time. I didn't want to break my Hello Kitty hairclip. My Daddy bought it for me. Demoness' arm was still around my shoulder. I felt trapped.

"No." I looked away from her. I didn't want to do it, but at the same time I was frightened of her. I wasn't looking at her eyes, but I could imagine them staring at me, "Daddy bought it."

"You'll need it to find Dave. Pull it apart." She told me again. I was expecting her to shout at me, or hurt me, but she was very calm. For some reason, it sent a shiver down my spine. Instead, I felt Demoness' entire hand on my thigh. I hate it when she does things like that! I remembered dreaming of her now. I remember her kissing me. I felt like throwing up, "You know, I can be here all night… I'm a very, very patient guardian angel…" Her hand was cold, burning into my thigh. I could feel her stroking it. I felt sick. I wanted so much to cry, to call Daddy, but Demoness was there. I pulled my hairclip apart. Hello Kitty's face fell off.

"Good girl." Demoness removed her hand from my thigh. I still couldn't breathe. This was when I realised that I was aching – I was so tense when she was around. "Now, I can't remember where Dave's going, but wherever he is going, there's going to be a locked door. You know how to pick a lock, right?" I shook my head. I didn't even know what she meant by picking locks. I didn't even want to look at her. She was… perverted. "Don't worry, you'll know."

"Well, I gotta run, sweetie." The Demoness was finally leaving. But I still didn't want to breathe too hard. I felt her planting a kiss on my cheek before standing up. I didn't even want to look at her. "You'll thank me when you have him." She disappeared before I was brave enough to look at her again. I couldn't help but to cry in bed after that. It was difficult for me to sleep later. I could still feel her hand on my thigh even when Dave was reading me a story, even when it was 2 o'clock, and Dave had fallen asleep beside me.

…

**28 June 2011, Tuesday**

Dr Paul came to visit me again. He asked a lot of questions. I had to lie to him a few times. I didn't know if I should tell him about Demoness – he asked if I've been seeing anyone who was a 'bad influence' – but I feel that I shouldn't. Demoness was helping me to find out the truth about everything, about why I can't remember anything except for what Dave and Dad were telling me, about my name. Then there were the nightmares and dreams I had. I couldn't tell Dr Paul about everything. He gave me a lollipop before he left.

Dave said yesterday that he'd take me to the movies today. But just now, he said he couldn't. He said he needed to help in the 'Good Samaritan Hotline' place again. When I asked about that place, he said that it was where depressed people would call in for help. I want to be a good sister to him, to understand what he needs to do. But at the same time, I can't help but to… suspect him after everything Demoness told me.

I planned to follow him tomorrow, but I did it today instead.

…

Dave told me what time he was leaving. I lied again that I was going to Pete's place. I left the house a little earlier than Dave. I followed Demoness' plan. I went the same way I followed Dave over the last time and it took me some time to get there. When I did I didn't know where to hide when I got there. I saw the alleys alongside the road, but they were smelly! I did it anyway. I hid in the alley and pinched my nose, but I could still almost smell it through my mouth.

I was there for ten minutes. The smell was HORRIBLE, and I couldn't help but to feel that I wasn't alone, as if Demoness was looking at me in the alley. I could hear all kinds of movement and sounds in the alley. I thought I could hear rats. Then Dave went by. I was happy to get out of the alley, so I got on my bicycle quickly and cycled out of the alley to follow Dave.

I pedalled harder and faster. I was sweating through my dress. I didn't want to lose him again. I needed to find out the truth, about what everything Dave had been telling me. Inside, I was praying to God that everything he said was the truth, that I was just being a silly little girl, so life could just go back to normal…

There was a moment when he turned around a corner, and I thought I would lose him because I was getting so tired, but when I turned a corner, he'd finally stopped at this huge, old building. I had to stop suddenly, and I fell off my bicycle. It hurts so much, but I ran behind a corner to hide. Before this, I didn't think that I could hide so fast. It was like Hide and Seek, but a lot scarier. What would Dave think when he saw that I was following him? What would Daddy do if he found out that I was lying to him and going out like this?

When I was hiding in a corner, I saw that I was bleeding from my knee. I wanted to give up, but I knew I couldn't. Dave was so important to me – even if he was lying to me, I knew that I would forgive him. I just needed to know the truth, to get him back. What if Dave was in trouble? What if, like me, he was forced to come to the old building by bullies? Dave said that the city was a dangerous place. And what if he was lying to me? He'd broken his promise before, and it hurts inside, more than my knee. How much would it hurt this time if he was lying to me?

I waited for him to get into the building before I followed him. I no longer knew what I was doing – it was all new to me, yet… it felt familiar in a way. When I got into the building, I saw him enter an elevator, and it was then that I lost him. I went up to the elevator doors, unsure of what to do. Which was when my phone rang, and I saw that I had a message – only Pete, Dave and Dad ever messages me, but this time, it wasn't them.

'Look up, girlie.' The message said. I knew who it was even when the phone number was new. I looked up, and I saw a number above the elevator. It was the floor the elevator was on. It was the floor Dave was going to, and it stopped on the top floor. I took the other elevator, and when I was inside, another message was sent to me. 'Stop on the floor below him, go up the stairs and don't let him see you.'

I did as Demoness told me. I was tired, but I didn't want Dave to see me. When I could see the floor Dave was on, I saw him going into an apartment. I wanted to go into the apartment, but I remembered that the door would have been locked.

Then I remembered something else. Fumbling around in my pocket, I took out the Hello Kitty hairclip I pulled apart because of Demoness. 'You know how to pick a lock, right?' Demoness asked yesterday. After I was done crying yesterday night, I had time to check the dictionary what 'picking a lock' meant. It was to open a lock using anything else other than a key. But I had no idea how to do that! I didn't even know what it meant yesterday!

At first, I wanted to just give it a try, but Demoness sent another message, 'Wait for him to leave first before you try anything, girlie. Wait for the elevator bell.' And so I waited, and waited, and waited…

**Meanwhile…**

It was finally special operations day – the day I had been waiting for. The Colonel'd called up all founding members to meet on the field. If only he didn't do it at the last minute – but I'm sure he had his reasons, and I'm sure it had something to do with me telling him about mafia plants and double-agents. The timing was horrible, though, as I promised Mindy that I would take her to the cinema to watch _Cars 2_. I could only be thankful that she'd never watched the original.

I went through the usual routines. All of them were unavoidable. I sat down on Mindy's desk, looked at their badass family photo. Big Daddy in his dark modern armour while Mindy in her purple outfit as Hit-Girl. She had her twin pistols – no chance of that anymore, now that Dr Paul had made sure she was even more girly than a normal girl, too afraid of even a subconscious thought of violence to even hold it without shaking. Still, I couldn't hold anything against him, no matter how much I wanted to sometimes. I opened Big Daddy and Hit-Girl's lockers, took out Hit-Girl's stuff, wondering at the what-ifs. I'd long given up on locking them after I was done. It wasn't as if Big Daddy or Hit-Girl would ever come back and give me a good talking down to, no matter how much I dreamed or fantasied that it would happen.

It was only after then that I went into the storeroom to get changed into my Kick-Ass gear, all the while wondering if I should even continue down this line after looking at Big Daddy and Hit-Girl's costumes again, costumes that hadn't been worn for a year. It was the same every time. A habit of self-destruction that I couldn't help, along the lines of smoking and drinking and opium smoking. In the end, I would still be in my Kick-Ass costume, going out there as Kick-Ass.

After taking a good look through the pinhole at the front door, I switched off the lights and took my leave, making sure that I lock the door behind me.

…

At first, I was beginning to disbelieve Demoness' advice. If Dave was in the Good Samaritan Hotline place, I knew that he would be in there for hours. So if Dave was not lying, I would have to wait for hours at the stairs. Looking at my _Spongebob_ watch again, I saw that 20 minutes had passed.

I was no longer as tired, but I could still hear my heart beating. I was afraid of finding out the truth – if Dave was lying, I knew the pain would hurt so much, and if Dave was telling the truth… I wouldn't forgive myself for all the lies I had told to follow Dave, for succumbing to Demoness, for even doubting Dave, who had taken care of me all along, even when I was hard to take care of.

I thought about walking away, to just go home. But I knew I couldn't, because I needed to know the truth. So I sat there, and cried. I didn't want to – I knew the words even the girls in my class would use to call me: _crybaby, crybaby_. But I was so scared of what comes next. It was either Dave would betray me, or I would betray Dave.

Then my phone kept ringing. Looking at it, I saw messages popping up one after the next, fast. 'STOP CRYING GIRLIE', 'DON'T BE A LITTLE GIRL', 'OR HE WILL FIND YOU', 'SHUT IT FOR YOUR DADDY', I could see as the messages kept popping up one after the next. I had to silence the phone to stop the noise – the noise was hurting my ears. It was then that the apartment door opened, and I clapped a hand over my mouth. I was still sniffling and crying, and I was trying to stop. I went a flight of steps lower to hide better. I waited for the elevator bell.

When Dave came my way, his steps were heavier, slower. The elevator bell came after that. Going back up the stairs again, I came to the same door Dave was at. While I was still sniffling, I had to 'pick a lock'. Fumbling around with my ruined Hello Kitty hairclip, I inserted it into the keyhole and pulled it out – maybe it works like a key? I tried the knob after that. It didn't work. I twisted it around, trying to get it right, putting it into whatever shape that came into mind. I tried it again, inserting it like a key, but the knob was still stuck.

_Fishing_ – the word came into my mind. I didn't know how to take it, but I tried moving the hairclip around in the keyhole. There were things inside. Things to push. _Play the piano, child_ – more words coming into my head. I started pushing them. I forgot that I was ever crying. I tried the knob again, but it wouldn't budge. _Feel them and push them, baby doll, you can do it_ – the words continued saying. Time flew as I kept trying. I was mesmerized by it.

I pushed the cylinders inside for another round before pulling my Hello Kitty hairclip out. I was sweating but I wiped them away. I tried the knob again. This time, the door opened. _Good job. That's my little miss sunshine_.

**Justice Forever Headquarters…**

User: Colonel Stars and Stripes

Justice Forever Members Manifest – Founding Member Combat (Updated as of 28/6/2011)

Remembering Tommy

The first two to join Justice Forever. They do not fight to begin with, but they certainly have the courage to do what is right, and that is good enough. They are also great team players, first as a duo then as a member of Justice Forever. They will watch their team's back, but whether they could or not is the question.

They have no prior combat training nor experience. What we get from them is what I put in them, and for now they have about a few weeks of training behind them. The fight in the subway, at least, have proven that they could deal with street-level gangsters, but only with the element of surprise and only when their backs are turned and their attention elsewhere at the beginning.

Equipment-wise, they are modest. Their weapons are not the best, but they do have the element of surprise with them. The woman has a brick in her bag while the man has plenty of golf clubs to go around. They don't seem to mind breaking their expensive and fragile weapons, but we will need to look out for them when they break during combat.

They need more training, and more experience in easy situations first. They could use better equipment. Their value is in non-combat duties and decision making, which will be covered in their profile.

Insectman

Fourth member of the team. He is in the superhero world for 3 months and counting, but his performance, so far, is encouraging. He knows how to handle his batons. I suspect that he might have been in a community watch before he became Insectman. He knows a few ways to use his fists and feet, based on the demonstrations he gave, but he is limited without equipment. He is not built for the rough and tumble of dirty street fighting. He couldn't handle more than a few hits, if our sparring sessions are anything to go by. He is a little fast and nimble, so that could work to his advantage. NOTE: He is still not as well trained as, say, a rookie cop or mafia muscle. Train him in his strength: Fast and nimble.

His equipment loadout started out modest. A pair of police batons, a pair of handcuffs and some zip ties. However, he has since upgraded his police batons to double as shock batons in the headquarters' workshop. I've seen how it works in the subway fight, and those things pack a punch.

My only concern is his costume. While it is fine that his costume has minimal protection in the form of knee and elbow guards, he goes around without a mask, and that might blow his cover in any confrontation. Organised mobs could pick him off in a tick (pun unintended). I will need to convince him to wear a mask soon, when I get closer to him.

While he is relatively experienced, having been in one more fight other than the subway, more training and experience couldn't hurt. I believe he is ready for the tougher stuff, but with a mask on first. His tech skills could be useful too, if I could find a way to use it in battle.

Nightbitch

Fifth member of the team. She is another young superhero, having been at it seriously for about 4 months, but she is fiercely motivated, unfortunately thanks in part to her sister's murder. She can be trusted to not abandon the cause, to not run in the face of the enemy.

Morever, she has the toughness to match. Her figure, beauty and wardrobe makes for a good ruse to hide her combat prowess, which, oddly enough, has its roots in ballet. Despite wearing high heels, it didn't seem to affect her running and balance in any way. The extra height should help. That said, she could keep on her feet pretty well, and she is pretty fast and nimble. I've seen her kick a dummy in headquarters, and her kicks are an equivalent of any martial artists I've seen. She could easily reach the head, and the force of her kick sent the dummy across the room pretty well. Coupled with her high heels, I wouldn't want to be at the business end of her feet.

Her weapon is a pool cue, painted black on both ends. Although she has no formal training in any weapons, she handles it pretty well, owing to her time in ballet, which spans more than a decade. With balance and control on her side, she knows how to bring its full power down on a target. A limitation to this is the weapon itself, which, in the end, is a simple pool cue. It is not designed as a weapon, and is too light and easy to break, so it is not terribly effective. The other limitation to her attacks are her arms – as a ballet dancer and teacher, her legs are her priority. I have seen her punch before, and it could barely faze anyone. Her effectiveness with the pool cue is only possible with technique.

That said, her 'equipment' loadout is arguably the weakest in Justice Forever. Modesty aside, her upper half is almost unprotected by even simple cloth. Her cape and hair could easily be grabbed, and I still think she is better off with proper footwear. It is possible that her injuries in her first fight could be attributed to her lack of proper clothing and protection.

She needs proper equipment if she is going to go toe to toe with crime in the long run, otherwise, she has great potential, and is a great asset in combat. Some upper body exercises and training in actual combat will go a long way in making her a model superheroine.

Battleguy

Sixth superhero to join the team. He is a very new superhero, having joined the cause shortly after Justice Forever is formed. He has nothing but the subway incident to his name. Both in training and in a real fight, he is more of a defensive player, and it could be something to do with his personality – more on his personality on his profile.

He could punch fine in training, but he couldn't kick very high or very hard. He is not the most courageous man I have met, but at the least, he has been taking care of his cardio well enough. That said, he is largely dependent on equipment. He handles a large shield, and behind his shield he wears a hard utility vest with a stab vest underneath. Even his leggings and sleeves are reinforced. His gloves and boots are leather.

He will be hard to dispatch with bats and knives. However, guns will be a problem to him just like it is for the rest of us. His shield is not bulletproof. The colour scheme of his uniform serves as good camouflage. He will be hard to find in the dark, in an urban setting. He didn't look like a particularly stealthy individual, however, so that throws that option into question for now.

His only weapon is his shield. It is hard and the edges could do some damage. His shield is huge, so if he plays his card right, he could easily be on the offensive and defensive at the same time. However, he was frequently exposing himself in the subway incident, so some training in this respect will benefit him greatly.

He needs training, a lot of it, as he is only starting out, and he is entering the cause with no relevant skills whatsoever. His only saving grace is his equipment and defensive posture, and even then, he will need to learn how to moderate that with some aggressiveness. A real weapon will not hurt either.

Doctor Gravity

The seventh member to join Justice Forever. He is relatively new, having been in this for a month, reaching two. A thing to note about him is his enthusiasm for the cause. However, his excitement over everything superhero could also be a problem, as he can go overboard and become brash and headstrong. A pattern I noticed both in meetings and out on patrol is that he tends to act first before thinking later. During patrols, there are a few cases of him misinterpreting innocent acts. Had we not intervened, he would have been accused of harassment and destroy what relationship we have established with the police. He will need a few lessons in that kind of stuff, and in leadership, but for now, he is unprepared to make important decisions, both in and out of combat.

He professed no previous training in the martial arts or any kind of combat skills, lethal or otherwise. However, his experience fighting street thugs with Kick-Ass should be useful, but at the same time it allowed him to become even more over-enthusiastic. However, what he lacks in actual skill in confrontations are made up for by his equipment loadout.

His suit is made of leather, which should turn aside some knives, and he is armed with what he called the 'zero-g device'. Unfortunately, it is nothing magical, but it is still a good ruse and source of intimidation, though it doesn't work all the time. It is a baseball bat, and from personal experience, baseball bats are good weapons, especially in our cause – they are not too deadly, but hurts a lot. Moreover, with the decorations he put on the bat, it looks like it could hurt even more than a normal bat.

He will need a lot of training, and possibly a few more pieces of equipment, but as he is now, he will make it just fine.

Kick-Ass

The eighth member to join Justice Forever, and the last founding member. He was introduced by Doctor Gravity to join Justice Forever, but in reality, when I first thought of becoming a superhero to get out of crime and help those who I used to terrorize, I've had my eye on Kick-Ass. The reason I did not approach him myself was due to his sudden inactivity after stopping Demoness at the D'Amico Tower. He is God's answer to my prayers, as he is easily one of the most experienced and skilled superhero of them all. My original plan was to form a team with Kick-Ass, and then use him to get in contact with Hit-Girl – the Lord frowns upon child soldiers and prostitution, but I was just hoping to convince her to train and teach the superheroes in my team. However, as it is, Kick-Ass alone is good enough. In such humble beginnings, it is important to count your blessings.

However, it is important to keep things in a realistic even for a legend of his stature, especially for this report. Kick-Ass, like many other superheroes, has no formal training, and he does his own exercises and cardio. Most of his training came from his experience, and he has plenty to offer in that department, such that a full report of his experiences is in a separate file from this and his profile.

His equipment, which he says is accumulated as he continues being a superhero, is top-notch. Over his wetsuit, he wears a helmet, a vest and a utility belt. This will provide him with ample protection. He is the only member in Justice Forever who stands a chance against bullets, but even then, when I inspected his vest and helmet, I found that they offer enough protection only for pistols. Rifles will tear him apart, just like the rest of us. Predictably, he will do well against the common rats on the streets with their pipes, knives and knuckle dusters.

For weapons, he has his signature twin batons, and a pair of tasers. Very neat and professional, and he will know how to use them, considering that he used them against even Demoness herself, and won. It doesn't stop there either. For arresting criminals, he's got 2 handcuffs and a bundle of zip ties.

However, he does have problems that might affect him in combat. He seems to have suffered in his time as Kick-Ass. It is too obvious to ignore. He has some difficulty in trusting people, even members of Justice Forever. He is paranoid, but from my experience as a mob enforcer, it is understandable. It will still get the better of him if it goes unchecked. Other than paranoia, I can tell that he is in a lot of pain, and that he is beginning to doubt his role as a superhero. When I get closer to him, I will try to help him deal with his emotional turmoil, both as a leader and as a friend, and as God's hand. It will be both practical in the long run and the right thing to do.

A bit of training will help him, but counselling is what he really, really needs.

**Safehouse F…**

There was no one inside. The apartment Dave entered was dark. I had to switch on the lights. There were no phones inside. From the front door, I could only see a single computer on a desk, nothing else. I knew what it meant, but I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to, no.

I tried very hard to think of something else, but I felt like I was losing. I came to the computer and the desk. There was a chair. Déjà vu. I sat down. My legs felt weak. It almost felt as if my heart would jump out of my chest. I didn't want to believe it, I didn't want to, didn't want to. I didn't want to believe it, but Dave had lied to me about everything. I needed something to look at, so I looked at my phone, to see everything Demoness had sent me, but when I checked the message inbox, there were no messages at all. I didn't have the energy left to wonder why.

How long did I spend sitting down on the chair? I didn't know. Time seemed to fly when I cry, and soon I was staring into space, wondering where Dave actually went, then I would cry again. I knew that the pain was coming, but it did it made no difference. Dave lied, and it hurts worse than a broken promise. It wasn't just any lie, it was a big one. Day after day, he had been going elsewhere but the Good Samaritan Hotline place – day after day, I had nightmares without him, or trouble sleeping. I need him so much. Even when he broke the promise he made me, I knew at least that he was out in the city, helping people, but now, I didn't even have that anymore.

**Meanwhile…**

"JUSTICE FOREVER!" I screamed into the night, for all the city to hear, for all the crooks below to tremble by. I screamed for justice, for the people, for the crooks, but also for myself, to let it all out: the pain, the joy, the frustrations, the rewards, Mindy, Big Daddy, the Colonel, everyone. It wasn't a superhero team name for the mafia to fear yet, but it was something to me – it was all I had after Mindy and Dad. It was all Kick-Ass had.

"I'm glad you got that out of your system." Marty quipped after I was done as he was casually sipping his coffee, sitting on an air-conditioning unit. He'd been waiting for Colonel Stars and Stripes' signal on the phone to get down. When his phone rang, I thought that was it – we're going down, but as it turns out… "Oh, Todd texted me. Again. What a loser." We'd been neglecting Todd since we both found out that we were both in Justice Forever. Marty's words did not hold water with me – I knew exactly what being alone meant, all too well, and in the worse way possible, that was, being alone even with friends and family around you. There was no known cure for that.

"Dude, how bad-ass is Colonel Stars and Stripes?" I changed the subject a hundred degrees as I returned to my seat next to him on the AC unit, adjusting my helmet and vest. Marty was the old me, and I didn't like how I used to look in the mirror. "I still can't believe he's an ex-mob enforcer. How do you go from that to being a superhero?"

"He's a born again Christian." Marty replied. _Of course he is_, I thought. Colonel Stars and Stripes was Sal Bertolinni all along. We'd been attending the same church for a week or two without knowing that we were both superheroes in the same building. But of course, the fewer people knew, the better.

I remembered Colonel Stars and Stripes' testimony about how Demoness was the catalyst to his conversion to Christianity, and how he knew about Hit-Girl's raid on the D'Amico Tower. As it turns out, both the Demoness and Hit-Girl was also in the same building as he was, every Sunday, and he never knew. Odd circumstances indeed. A secret family reunion.

"Man, let's hope we can handle tonight." Marty confessed his fears and insecurity. It was understandable – I would have thought the same way had I been in his position. In the subway fight with the Bloods and the Crips, he could barely even fight and contribute, and those gangsters were the small fishes in the grand organised crime's scheme of things. And now, here we were, about to perform a 'special operation', and we all knew that it had nothing to do with the soup kitchen or other forms of community service.

"We'll be fine." I said, and I meant it – whatever it was, it could never be worse than losing someone you care about, after you'd beaten her to within an inch of her life, after sending her in for a total brainwipe… Marty's phone rang again, and this time, it was Colonel Stars and Stripes, although his message was redundant as we heard the engine of a van switching off, fumes evacuating – but that was the Colonel, making sure that the wheel was turning as it should.

**Safehouse F…**

I woke up with a start. I must have cried so much that I was falling to sleep. I was so tired of crying my eyes out that I did the one other thing that I could do – I looked around, and saw the black knight on the wall. It was a photograph, and the black knight was with someone else, someone with purple hair and tights. My head hurts, but I stood up and came up to it. Everything in the apartment was déjà vu. My head was beginning to pound. With the photograph, it meant that the black knight was real, and the girl beside him…

'BD' and 'HG' were written on their belts. I could not tell what they mean, but I played around with the letters in my mouth. I found myself touching the photo. It felt like it would help somehow. I traced the letters with my finger, playing with them. "Bad… Devil… Big… Devil… Black…" But it didn't seem to fit the black knight, as he saved me from Demoness, "Black… Daddy… Big Daddy?" For some reason, the name seemed to fit the black knight. He reminded me of Big Teddy, who was also black in colour. Big Daddy had a yellow belt, while Big Teddy had a yellow ribbon.

"Hurt… Giver..?", 'HG' came next. My head was pounding like a drum. Something felt very wrong with the room. _Why was the black knight in the photo_? "Hot... Girl? Hell… Girl. No." Then it came to me, out of nowhere, like the many words I was giving Mrs Davies, "Hit-Girl. You must be Hit-Girl." I said to the painting, to the girl in purple in the painting. I had no one else to talk to, not even Dave. My head was pounding, and now so was my heart. I felt weak. I saw flashes, flashes of purple, flashes of red, red everywhere, blood getting spilled, like how blood spilled from my nose. My head was pounding. I had to sit down, but before I did, I saw someone in brown jacket and blue jeans walking out of the room I was in, into another room with no doors.

I followed him. He looked like God – he'd been away for so long! I followed him, and ended up in the kitchen, but God had disappeared. The kitchen in the apartment was strange. There were benches in the middle, and what looked like giant school lockers away from the counters, fridge and stove. 'BD' and 'HG' were written on them. I tried opening them, and I found that they weren't locked. I opened 'BD' first, and I was shocked! At first, it looked like he was inside, but as it turns out, it was his clothes! For the first time, I knew that the black knight, or Big Daddy, was real. Somehow, he was there to protect me from Demoness.

I opened 'HG' next, and sure enough, her clothes were there. Did Dave know them? Did Dave ask Big Daddy to protect me? Questions were going through my head, too many – I felt like fainting. Pain everywhere. Why did he lie to me? He didn't tell me about Big Daddy and Hit-Girl. Why? Were they bad people?

Hit-Girl's hair was in the locker. It turns out to be a wig, and when I took it out, there was a lot of dust that I sneezed a few times. I returned the wig back to its position, which was when I noticed the shelves. There were knives, but not just knives on the shelves. I saw… things that looked like eggs, and... A pair of… I took one of the… Pistol (I remembered the word with my hurting head) by the handle, but it frightened me so. I couldn't help but to shake, my hands shaking, feeling weak, and drop the pistol. I picked it up again, and I saw purple – I saw red, a lot of red. I saw knives entering people, I saw knives entering them, their stomach exploding, things exploding into red. I felt like fainting, I didn't want to faint.

I threw the pistol back to where it was. Closed the lockers. Ran. I barely remembered to switch off the lights and lock the door. I ran, and ran. I felt like throwing up, but I took my bicycle and went off. I rode it back home, felt my head hurting, my fingers pulsing in pain, my hands shaking, blood pouring from my nose.


	16. Amen

**The Descent**

**Chapter 15: Amen**

From the back of a silver van, Colonel Stars and Stripes pushed open the doors, came out from his seat, epic in his camo hood, Eisenhower beside him. If he had been somebody else, I would have thought that he rehearsed this a few times over, but the Colonel was himself. He was epic right from the start. Insectman had been driving the van, and after making sure that the vehicle was inert, he stepped out of the driver seat. As we approached the Colonel, Nightbitch was just slinking in from a branch of the alley. I didn't expect her to – she'd done a good job at avoiding our lookout, and it seemed intentional. She was remarkable in her own way. Going down a ladder and then into the alley, Me and Marty met the rest of Justice Forever, well, most of it.

"Hey, where's the rest of the team?" I counted 5 of us. We were supposed to be 8. Immediately, I was jumping to conclusions, fearing the worst for the missing 3.

"Doctor Gravity's sick. Remembering Tommy had 'Book of Mormon' to catch." The Colonel said. He was the one coordinating everything, so he knew what everyone was up to. Things were better than I thought – My bruise-addled brain was doing its thing, imagining that the Mafia had gotten to them before they'd gotten to one of their money pots. As it turns out, military-grade communications practices had its disadvantages, especially when everything else wasn't military. "It's fine. Five of us should do." We gathered in a rough semi-circle.

"How did you say this guy made his money, sir? Prostitution?" Marty, unsure of himself (as usual) jumped at the chance to make a last minute query with the Colonel. Prostitution – I'd been reading up on it (with some sources coming from the Colonel), and it wasn't as liberal for women as I once thought. Some of them were forced, and when the Mafia's involved, they usually were. My stomach turned at the thought, as the thought of girls somehow led me back to Mindy. It made me sick and pissed at the same time, at the right time. I needed the energy.

"Not just girls. Kids." The Colonel added to his sources. It was even worse than I thought, and thinking about Mindy was inevitable. As she was in her current state of normal-ness and vulnerability, she could easily be kidnapped by a pimp and be forced to work in bed with some 10 clients a day, including himself (according to the statistics I found). I understood in a short time what could motivate parents and siblings to join the police, or the army. "Ships them in from villages back home. Boneheads in blue take a blind eye." And it keeps getting worse. Even with the D'Amico family gone, the police was still corrupted – the only thing left to my imagination was how they were paid off. _Girls or money_? I thought as we moved towards the place we would soon be raiding.

"How did you know he's here tonight?" I went right down to business – I wanted them dead, but I had to be content with their incarceration, being Kick-Ass. We were forming a straight line with the Colonel leading us in the middle, ready to take down the world of crime. I was pumped myself.

"Because Tuesday night is poker night. Same 5 low-lives every week. Men with that habit ain't hard to find." The Colonel explained. I could feel everyone around me getting nervous, even if it wasn't overwhelming yet.

"So what's the plan? Are we sneaking in?" I asked and the briefing continues.

"I thought we'd knock. More polite." The Colonel answered. It was a most unexpected answer. His tactic wasn't the most practical one in my mind – it reeked instead of the mob's modus operandi. It seemed like it was all he knew. It got everyone else started. Insectman and Nightbitch were looking at each other, recognising fear in each other. I did the same thing with Marty, who looked like he'd just been punched in the face.

Admittedly, I was little afraid myself – I was outnumbered before myself, but back then, I was either facing common street crooks or had the benefit of a jetpack and a pair of miniguns. It was the real deal now, as I'm going up against 5 probably hardened members of some mob who had probably killed before – and if the dice roll was more fortuitous, they'd be armed to the teeth too. The only upside was that I won't be going in alone, but without Hit-Girl and Big Daddy, or even the Grandmaster and Michael, it felt all the same. Now, I was going in with Marty, a stick insect, a ballet dancer and an old man… The Colonel stopped at a door made of steel, huge and foreboding.

"Stay frosty, team." He let down his hood with some energy behind it, revealing his greying hair, which was both discouraging and encouraging at the same time. "I used to eat punks like these for breakfast." _Small comfort. You used to be younger and surrounded by killer friends…_ I thought as I tried to get ready, look my best and most intimidating. BONG BONG BONG, the Colonel knocked 3 times on the steel door with his palm, visibly beginning to lose his temper. Marty raised his shield, unnerved by what was to come, "Jehovah's witness!" He was noticeably ticked. A common peeve I noticed in him were paedophiles, women abusers, especially sexual abusers. It was part of the reason why 'pervs' were warned in the Justice Forever pledge. It was why he had Eisenhower, I suspected.

Silence. Everyone was shifting in their boots except for me and the Colonel. "I… I'm sorry, I just zoned out for a second." Marty broke the silence with equal awkwardness, "Did you just say that we're going up against 5 gangsters?" Already, there were murmurs inside. I was somehow reminded of the mines of Moria starting up.

"The bouncer makes 6-" The Colonel replied, but was interrupted by the steel door opening with a loud bang and creak. Out stepped this huge Asian troll, his hard footsteps too audible against the floor. He was almost a head taller than the Colonel, and more than a head taller than the rest of us. Marty shrunk away a bit. I stood my ground, my hands twitching for the tasers on my utility belt, "-And 3 quarters." The bouncer was staring down at the Colonel, a look of murder in his eyes. I was suddenly having doubts that my tasers could even put down such a beast like him. I would have to go in with my batons if anything happens.

"What the fuck do you want?" The bouncer asked, but it sounded like a rhetorical question, something to drive us away. His relative politeness compared to others was blind luck, but the Colonel had higher standards. I could tell by his fidget that he didn't like the profanity, but patience was also his virtue.

"Good evening, young man. We'd like a word with Jimmy Kim, if it's not too inconvenient." The Colonel opened in his usual pacifistic way. His style, not mine – I would have gone for something a little more bad ass, a witty line involving my hate for paedophiles. Everyone else but me were only one step away from quivering and running. If the Colonel falls, that might be the next few seconds. I kept my hands tense and ready for my tasers.

"Get the fuck out of here before I tear your head off, you old fuck." The bouncer growled, dispensing with what little politeness he had. I could tell even from the Colonel's back that he wasn't impressed.

"I'm sorry." The Colonel said, excusing himself from the bouncer for a moment. For a moment, I was actually afraid that even the Colonel himself was getting intimidated, but he wasn't running. I was surprised that the bouncer didn't make good on his intentions any earlier. "I just don't understand why people feel the need to use that kind of language." He explained as he turned slightly to us. He was casual, too casual, and soon I understood why.

The bouncer problem was over within seconds. After thrusting his fingers hard into the bouncer's neck, at some secret vulnerable spot I had never heard of before, the Colonel elbowed the bouncer in the head thrice, catching even him off guard. His axe handle was out before anyone knew it, its lower end connecting with the bouncer's privates, then the head, and to round things off, the Colonel shoved his boot into the bouncer's privates – he would be lucky if he retains them. The finishing move was a full 360 degrees swing into the head. It seemed impossible, but the bouncer fell backwards – he seemed indomitable before.

"Oh sweet Jesus…" Marty muttered, a little too loud for his own good. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or shocked. It seemed to be both. He regained the Colonel's attention.

"Battleguy, what did I tell you about taking the Lord's name in vain?" The Colonel warned Marty, a flash of murder in his eyes and his axe handle pointing threateningly at him. For this moment when the ex-mob enforcer was going back to violence once again, I could feel his old mafia side creeping back ever so slightly. Marty's shield was up. He was intimidated even though they were on the same team, even though the Colonel wasn't that near to him. His demonstration on the bouncer helped.

Marty apologised, but still didn't dare to lower his shield.

"Eisenhowever, at the ready." The Colonel ordered his dog before turning to the rest of us, "Insectman, I want you right behind me. Everybody else spread out, catch the strays."

"Oh, and try to have fun, otherwise… What's the point?" The Colonel smiled crookedly before heading in. We filed in to follow him through a corridor, going past red curtains, into the gangster's poker backroom. I could hear tokens and cards being placed before coming in. The smell of liquor and cigarette smoke was strong. It was the real deal, it was even in the air.

"Nice party! Anybody wanna dance!?" The Colonel opened again before waltzing up to the group of 5 Asian gangsters like they were nothing, smashing their table in, ruining their poker game as tokens, money and cards flew everywhere, beer and nachos flying up like some brief food fountain. I liked his opening this time. When I came in, I strafed to the side, pulling out my batons, Nightbitch following me to the right while Insectman followed the Colonel with Marty just behind. It started off well, the gangsters caught with their pants down, shocked that all their bets were off.

The Colonel's first target didn't even have time to react. He was still throwing his hands up in shock when he swung his axe handle into his stomach, then the lower end into his forehead. Headbutt, another swing of his axe handle into the side of his head.

The apparent leader, a short but broad Korean in a suit, pulled his pistol on the Colonel, but was saved by Nightbitch, who gave him a good whack in the arms with her pool cue, disarming him. Meanwhile, I was knocking down a stocky guy with long-hair and a leather jacket, but when I was done, I decided to chip in on the leader, putting all my fears for Mindy and hatred for pimps into him, kicking him over his poker table. Nightbitch returned the favour by putting her pool cue into the face of Stocky Long-Hair Guy. "Very good!" It was the Colonel praising me, but I was looking somewhere else.

"Behind you!" Behind his shoulders, A fat and bald Korean gangster in white, rushing at him with a knife. He had no chance once the Colonel knew. An axe handle to his balloon stomach and his back, and he was almost done. Tossing up a bottle of beer, the Colonel smashed it into the side of his face with his handle, and he was out cold. The Colonel felt invincible then. The stripe-haired gangster he beat up in the opening rushed at him again, but he was no match at all. When the Colonel was done beating him over again, he threw Mr Stripe-Hair over to Insectman, who gave him a few with his batons, before Marty rushed in and, in his usual way, rammed his shield down on the gangster to ensure he stays down.

"Nightbitch, behind you!" Marty shouted. She swung her pool cue a full 180 degrees, reaching behind her, her spin and balance impeccable. Stocky Long-Hair Guy was rushing at her with a glass bottle, but was knocked back to me like a pinball. I was back to beating him up again – baton in the belly, then the face, then a full twist of my body, a pair of batons to his chest. He held on stubbornly. He tried to punch Nightbitch, but his fist was painfully deflected by a certain black-tipped pool cue. The both of us slammed him into the poker table with our sticks. Glasses, tokens and money were flying all over the place as the table shook again, threatening to fall apart.

Jacket Man was behind Nightbitch, about to punch her in the back, but Marty was getting better. He rushed to block the punch even before I could do anything to help. When Jacket Man's fist bounced off his shield, I could hear an uncomfortable crunch. The gangster fell backwards, his face cringing in pain. Insectman came up behind Marty, kicking Jacket Man up against the wall, throwing him back against it when he tries to recover by hitting him over the head before tripping him with his baton and activating the shock pads on his police batons, shocking Jacket Man into submission, the noise reminding me of a defibrillator.

Even as the dusts were settling, we stood unscathed, handcuffing the Korean gangsters. The leader, the one in a suit, tried to run, but the Colonel tackled him, shoved the butt end of his axe handle into his mouth – poetic justice, "You know, you shouldn't talk with your mouth full. It's very ru-ude. C'mon!" Picking the leader up like a weightless doll, the Colonel threw him into a chair. Insectman worked to handcuff him to said chair.

"Who the hell are you?" Jimmy Kim still had the audacity to question the Colonel with profanity intact, even when he was defeated, even when his axe handle was stabbing him in the chest.

"We're the good guys." The Colonel said, a smile of victory on his face.

"No no no, you're the fucking dead guys." Jimmy retorted. Bad mistake, even I knew that. The smile on Colonel Stars and Stripes' face faded. He kicked Jimmy's chair into position, facing the red curtains where the corridor leading out was.

"Eisenhower, schpunks!" The dog's growl was painfully audible at first, before the animal came through the corridor, lunging across the room. A look of terror on Jimmy's face as he knew what's coming. The crunches when the dog bit down on his privates was painful even for the rest of us. Screams, screams that came only from the dying. I could tell what Jimmy would think – that he was better off dead. The pain from Eisenhower's jaws would have been a new human record.

To get Jimmy's attention back, the Colonel tapped his head, hard. I could even hear a 'conk'. "Where are the girls?" The interrogation had begun.

"C'mon man, I've got a heart problem." But Jimmy was stubborn as hell, only beginning to discover that the Colonel was a guy not to be messed with. Bad mistake.

"Oh yeah?" But I couldn't predict what came next. The Colonel pulled a gun on Jimmy Kim, from the back of his belt. "You want me to solve that for you?" The mouth of the gun barrel was a mere few inches from his face. If Jimmy wasn't terrified before, he would be now. We were all almost equally as shocked. I was thinking that the Colonel was losing it, getting sucked into the black hole of his past, suddenly falling victim to an old habit. It really looked like it. Either that or I was over-sensitized over such things because of Mindy. But it broke Jimmy.

"O…Okay, the girls are upstairs in the apartments!" Jimmy spilled as he was struggling against Eisenhower, struggling against pain from every angle, fear from every angle. "My… My-my little brother! He's on the till. He's just a college kid!" Crunch. Eisenhower's jaw was tightening, or shifting. He deserved it – who knew how many girls Mindy's age had he gone through? All I knew was that I wouldn't want to know – I would kill him myself if someone else doesn't do it first.

"Kick-Ass! Night-Bitch!" The Colonel ordered, and soon, we were both heading up, but before I was out of ear-shot, I heard something rather… disconcerting.

"Ralph D'Amico is going to hang you for this." Jimmy had said through gritted teeth. Before this, I'd always thought that the D'Amico family was extinct, six feet under for good. The way he said it, it seemed that there was still another D'Amico running things around here, hiding somewhere out there, and he seemed like a very real threat. It wasn't over. It never was. I would need to talk to the Colonel about this.

**Meanwhile…**

Colonel Stars and Stripes was insane. I certainly didn't join Justice Forever hoping to put a gun to someone's face, or a dog on someone's… nether regions. It certainly wasn't what was in the bible, that's for sure.

"Ow, Ow! It hurts!" Jimmy Kim screamed. I was beginning to feel sorry for him, even if he's a pimp and gangster. The Colonel on the side, well, he was starting to really go a bit cuckoo himself. He seemed to be enjoying this a bit too much, laughing at Kim.

"Yeah, there's a dog on your balls!" The Colonel said it sadistically, as he was laughing. He was actually scaring even me this way. Was this how he was like back then? I guess this was where the line between good and evil blurs. How much of a Superhero was the Colonel? I held my shield close. I was actually a little afraid that the dog would go on overdrive and bite my balls instead, like some poorly wired robot.

"Y-y-you want money? There's 50 grand in the table! Plea- make him stop, please!" Jimmy was positively begging for anything out of this hell we'd taken to him. The Colonel stopped laughing – it seemed that reality and sanity had asserted itself once again. Boy – what a day! Who'd know that being a superhero's so tiring, so thought-provoking? It wasn't the same as the comic-books. It wasn't exactly good versus evil. When I first saw Superman, I knew he was good, hands down, but here…

"You think you can buy us? Is that what you think?" The Colonel said matter-of-factly, "We're not here to steal from you. We're here to send a message to all the other bottom dwellers." God, when the Colonel's in pure superhero mode (compared to his anti-hero mode back there), he was really good with words, and it didn't look rehearsed, "We're shutting you down."

After what felt like forever and ever, the Colonel lowered his pistol. I could finally breathe easy again. I could finally stop caring so much about Jimmy Kim. "Eisenhower, stand down." His dog came off. The mob boss screamed, and screamed like he was on the rack. Wow – I wonder what hurts more? To have a dog chomping down on your balls or having it come off after such a long time? I couldn't help but to wonder if they were still attached or hanging by the skin. "Battleguy, Insectman. Round up all the money on the table, give them to the girls and kids." Then he turned to Jimmy once again, "You owe them more than 50 grands, Jimmy. You ruined their lives. You deserve a bullet to the brain, but you're lucky we're Justice Forever. The Lord in heaven will judge you instead."

Together with Insectman, we began sweeping the copious amount of money into a plastic bag. Despite his ordeal, I could still catch Jimmy taking a disheartened peek at us taking away his gambling money. In the meantime, the Colonel was calling the police through the phone in the poker backroom. It was a smart move on the part of the Colonel – even the police won't know his secret identity that way.

When we were done, I made my way up the front of the building, bringing along the bag of 50 grand. It was funny – that was a lot of money, and I didn't feel tempted at all to just take it. Not even a splitting thought. I felt like a real superhero that way.

"C'mon, there's a van waiting outside from a women's shelter. It'll take you someplace safe." I could hear Nightbitch, and feet going down the stairs as I was making my way out. When I was out, the prostitutes were already piling into a van, "Go, go!"

"Wait! We really can't leave! We have no money…" One of the prostitutes, Korean like Jimmy, said. From behind Nightbitch, I could see the desperation in her face. The prime target for a Spiderman to save, but too bad I wasn't the one talking to her.

"Battleguy, how much do they have on the table?" Nightbitch asked. It was time for me to step out.

"Uh… It's like 50 Grands." I said, handing over the bag of money to Nightbitch.

"You got plenty now." And Nightbitch handed the money over to the prostitute.

"Thank you!" They shared a hug. It felt awesome, and it was addictive. Was this why Dave kept being Kick-Ass? Even after all those beatings he took? Even after all those sacrifices he'd made?

**Later…**

"You sure you want to sleep alone tonight? I don't mind doing this every night, you know." It was Dave. When he came into my room with 'Little Red Riding Hood', I didn't want him around anymore, even if he kept the nightmares away. He lied to me about everything. I was so angry. I was so upset, but I couldn't let him know. I needed to act, or he would know that I know.

"I'm fine, Dave." I lied. I tried smiling, but it was hard to keep it up. Dad was still working, and I didn't want Dave in the room, so I got into bed myself, "I don't want to bother you anymore." I faced away from him, yawning the best I could. It didn't feel like a real yawn, but Dave didn't seem to notice. I turned to face away from him. I didn't even want to look at him anymore. "Dave, really, I'm fine." Even as I said this, I was crying into Big Teddy's belly.

"Okay… then, if you're happy that way." I could hear Dave say before the door close. I switched off the table lamp. It was dark again. I used to be afraid of it, and now I liked it. This way, no one could see me cry.

I tried to sleep. I wanted to sleep so that I wouldn't be sad, but I couldn't. I kept thinking about the old apartment, about Dave's lies. I kept thinking about what I did. I still couldn't believe that I knew how to pick a lock, and I didn't learn it in school, cross my heart. It must have come from before a bus accident. Why would I know how to pick a lock?

My mind kept wandering back to the photo of Big Daddy and Hit-Girl. Who were they? Why was Big Daddy protecting me from Demoness? What does he want? Who was Hit-Girl? I had yet to meet Hit-Girl. The two of them looked like a family, just as me, Dave and Daddy were a family. They were holding… guns. Were they bad people? Dave had said that guns were bad, but… Dave lied to me about his work outside to help people. Was he lying about that too? Was he lying about everything else?

My mind kept wandering back to Hit-Girl's locker. The things inside was dusty, and so were the things inside Big Daddy's locker. If Big Daddy was with me all the while, why would they be dusty? I returned to Hit-Girl's locker. Everything felt like Déjà vu. I remembered what I saw when I picked up the gun. I saw blood, people getting killed. I felt pain, all the way home. The gun felt like Déjà vu. I saw the tights Hit-Girl wore. They were small, like the clothes I wore. She was young like me. But she wasn't… wasn't around anymore about of the dust. Must be. So where did she… did she… go? Was she protecting me like…

Darkness. Light. I was sitting down. It looked like the old apartment, but it was different, a lot better looking. God was sitting beside me. We were on a couch. We were watching TV. "I want you to promise something." God said suddenly, "It's very important."

"Yeah? Shoot." I said, but I didn't sound like me at all. I was still watching TV. It looked like a movie, and people were shooting each other in it. Why were we watching such a film?

"You know, there's going to be a day when I-" God went on, but I cut him off. I couldn't help it. I felt frustrated, even though it wasn't my feeling. It was strange. I was there, and I was not.

"Not this again! Dad!" _Dad_? At first, I was confused at my own words, but then God was also my heavenly father, so it made sense.

"Promise?" God skipped to the end.

"For the millionth time, I promise, Dad!" I laughed as I said. We hugged. _What was I promising_?

"Good girl. Well, break time's over. Another set of push ups, let's go." God paused the movie we were watching, and together, we got out of the couch.

I opened my eyes. Light. It was morning, and I woke up without blood on my face. I remembered the dream. I remembered talking to 'Dad'. I remembered something about push ups. I got out of bed, and got down on the ground. _Push-ups_… I remembered what they were. I had a sudden urge to exercise, so I did what I thought was a push up. You lie down on the ground straight, and then push yourself up with your arms. It was difficult! I could only do it 5 times before I couldn't push myself up again. Then my door opened, and Dave was there. I sat up quickly. I was scared that Dave would find out what I was doing – he had told me a lot of times not to exercise on my own, because I was born weak and I would hurt myself. But I wasn't hurt when I did 5 push-ups…

"Mandy? What're you up to?" Dave looked puzzled as he looked down at me. At first, I couldn't think of anything to say, and I hate lying.

"Oh, I was just looking for something under my bed." I lied in the end. It felt easier to lie. Dave himself was a liar, and I'd done it a lot of times myself. It felt easier to lie, but it hurts that way. I felt bad, and it felt like I am bad. I still love Dave – I couldn't forgive him like I thought I could, but he was still my brother, the same brother who took care of me whenever he was around.

"Well, okay. Dad's out, so I'm cooking breakfast instead." Dave gave me a weird look. Did he believe what I said? He went down after that, and I went to the bathroom, to take a bath and brush my teeth. _Prep in 5, baby doll, we have a long day ahead_. I did them all quick. I felt the need to. I couldn't explain where it came from. I did it all in a funny way. I brushed my teeth in the bathtub, and I let the toothpaste stay in my mouth when I showered.

When I was down in the kitchen 6 minutes later (there was a clock in the bathroom), Dave was still frying pancakes. "Whoa, Mandy, you need to learn how to slow down! How long did you take? Five minutes?" Dave said as he was cooking. I remember him saying that before.

I had time to think as I waited for the pancakes. I wanted so much to just talk to Dave about it, about the old apartment, about his lies, but I knew I couldn't. I wasn't supposed to follow him in the first place. _Interrogation 101, sunshine: there's no line between the truth and the lie except your line_. But I had an idea. Ideas kept coming at me from nowhere. It was scaring me. "Here, enjoy!" Dave set down the pancakes before me. I beamed at him, but it was still difficult to, after I knew so much more about him. I grabbed my knife. My hand was shaking again.

"Oh, right, I'm so sorry Mandy-" Dave reached out to take my knife from my hand but I pulled it away, still shaking. Dave looked surprised when I did that. He quickly put his hand away.

"No, Dave, it's fine…" I tried my best to use the knife. I could cut out a piece, but I felt like dropping the knife. My shaking hand felt weak. I put the knife down and ate my first piece. I did that a few more times, but I gave up after that. I still couldn't understand why I couldn't do it like a normal girl! Everyone could hold a knife just fine, except me. We ate in silence for a while. It wasn't like the first week we were here.

"Dave, Pete said he saw you going into an old apartment." I said. It was my idea. I didn't want to let him know that I was following him. It wasn't even a lie. It was a… half-lie. _Good call, baby doll_. "Is that where the Good Samaritan Hotline place is?" _Please, please, Dave, please don't lie to me again oh please_-

Dave looked shocked when I mentioned it. I thought that he should be, because I wasn't supposed to know. It took him some time to say something. "Yeah, actually, yes, of course." Dave LIED. It didn't even sound like a convincing lie. DAVE LIED. AGAIN!

"Why would I be there in the first place if it wasn't?" DAVE continued LYING. I wanted to smile at him, to let him know that I 'believed' him, but I couldn't do it anymore, like the way he was doing. I was angry, but I knew I shouldn't show it. I started cutting up my pancake with my fork, I did it again and again. It felt good, the brown skin-like colour, the white flesh inside. I poured strawberry syrup on it rather than maple syrup. It looked good that way. I was angry, but I couldn't show it.

"But Dave… Pete said it was a place where people lived." I continued with my made-up story. Dave was giving me that look again, looking at me as if I was lying. I WAS TELLING MORE TRUTH THAN HE WAS. I took a bite of brown skinned, white fleshed pancake with strawberry syrup. For a moment, I thought I saw Demoness peeking in from a window from a corner of my eyes, but when I looked at the window again, I didn't see anyone.

"Weren't Pete with you at his house yesterday?" Dave dodged me. It felt even worse I took another piece of pancake. Dave's pancake was delicious, but his lies weren't.

"He was taking his bike out to buy 7-up for me. He's nice that way, Dave." I lied. I was good at it, I didn't know how but I was. I didn't want to be, but I had to be. "He saw you on the way." Pete had never done such a thing for me, not even on other days. He was just a friend, a board game buddy. He wasn't Dave who would go out of his way for me, for everything, including LYING, and BREAKING my HEART, MAKING me SAD.

Dave looked stunned, even more so than just now. "You see, Mandy, people could use their house for anything, you know. I was with this family, and we used their house for the Good Samaritan thing…" Dave went on with his lie.

"Okay…" I wasn't even looking at him anymore. I didn't feel like doing that. I was looking at my pancakes instead, which was all cut up and had strawberry syrup all over. I didn't want to continue any further. The more I did, the more upset I became.

**Later…**

I did the same thing I did yesterday. I went to the old apartment. It felt like I was meant to be there. It felt like the apartment was calling to me, as if Big Daddy and Hit-Girl were calling me. This time, I waited for a long time, like an hour, for Dave to leave and then cycled to the old apartment. I picked the lock on the door again – it was easier this time – and went inside.

Sitting down on the same chair again, I looked at the picture of Big Daddy and Hit-Girl. _Prep in 5, baby doll, we have a long night ahead_. I turned, but I couldn't see anyone. Then I heard someone running, and I saw a girl sprinting into the kitchen. I heard metal slamming. The lockers. I ran into the kitchen – I wanted to meet Hit-Girl, but when I was inside, I saw no one. I approached the Hit-Girl locker myself, and opened it.

_The picture… Hit-Girl looked so much like me_, I thought. _Prep in 5, baby doll, we have a long night ahead_. I took out the purple tights hanging in the closet. I started changing. I was changing. I felt like changing. Purple flashed in my mind. I took off my dress, and put on the tights. They were a little tight, but they fitted well. I did it fast. Then I had to unzip it again, because I forgot this… vest thing. _Prep in 5_. I threw on the cape, the skirt, the gloves. The boots were a problem, but I discovered that there were zips, so they were easy that way. There was a mask, the pink utility belt. There were these black things… holsters. I had one for my leg and two for my belt. I had to dust the purple wig first before slipping it on. Everything felt stiff – the clothes were old.

When I stood up again, I felt like I was floating. The boots made me taller. I felt heavier. When I tried to walk, it was harder to lift my legs. It felt like getting rocks tied to my legs. I turned to leave. Flashes of red. Blood. _Always keep your weapons with you, honey, or they'll use them against you_. I returned to the locker, but I didn't really dare to pick up the weapons. Eventually, I did. I was told to, my words, words that helped me. Words that I knew didn't come from Demoness. There were 3 knives – throwing knives. I was shaking so much that I was struggling to put them in. I kept seeing red. There was a larger knife, which was harder to put in the right place, and I had trouble finding the right place. The pistols- 2 pistols. I grabbed them both, my hands shaking. I placed them in their holsters. I had to try a few times. I was sweating. It was tiring. I closed the locker, but then another idea came into my mind.

I had to check the pistols for some reason. I took out one, played around with it. _Fingers off the trigger, darling, unless you're shooting_. I pushed a button – had to try a few times because my finger kept missing. Something dropped from the handle. I couldn't catch it, and it fell on the floor. I picked it up again. _Mag… Magazine_. I flipped it around. _Cartridges_. It felt right and correct. I returned it to where it was, with difficulty. _Pull Slide. Safety on_. Who am I? I did the same with the other pistol. My hands felt like coming off.

Thud. Thud. Thud. I returned to the room where the picture was. My legs felt heavy. I took the picture down and returned to the kitchen. There was a standing mirror, so I stood in front of it, and held the picture under-shouldered. Compared myself with Hit-Girl. I scrutinised her eyes, her chin, and mine. I saw her body, mine. I dropped the painting. My hands felt weak. Hard to breathe. It felt like a sledgehammer over the head, what came next in my head.

I was Hit-Girl. I AM Hit-Girl.


	17. Screams in an Alley

**The Descent**

**Chapter 16: Screams in an Alley**

I am Hit-Girl. I am Hit-Girl. Am I? I couldn't believe the thought myself. All these thoughts – what were they? Were they just fantasies, or were they memories from before the bus accident? Dave would always say that I would remember things, but he would also call me a confused little girl. Am I really Hit-Girl? I felt like her, and yet I didn't. I returned the picture to the wall and looked at it for a while, but I wasn't convinced. I returned to the mirror.

I pulled my pistols out. I had great difficulty in doing that. I didn't like touching them. I had trouble unpinning the holster, at first, but they were out seconds later. I posed in front of the standing mirror, the way Hit-Girl was posing in the photograph. I held the pistols such that they were pointing up, like a cowboy I saw at the toy store. I looked exactly like her. Except my arms were shaking. I hated the pistols. Dave said they were bad, and I would shake a lot when I hold them. I was afraid of them. I remembered things, things about what pistols could do. They were loud, and they could hurt people. I didn't want to hurt people. I was frightened by the thought. Was this how Hit-Girl was like?

_Let's go fishing, honey bunny_. I returned the pistols to their holsters, gladly. I didn't even like the colour. They were purple. Well, I did like purple but blue was always with me, and blue reminds me of home, and Dad and… Dave. I liked blue better. My arms were shaking so much that they felt lethargic, but the pistols weren't heavy. They were small, unlike the guns in Big Daddy's locker. I had a lot of trouble putting back the pistols into their holsters. Am I really Hit-Girl? Was this how she was like? My arms were aching. _Time for some janitorial duties, Hit-Girl_.

I felt compelled to go out this way. Fishing. Janitorial duties. Big Daddy stopped the Demoness from doing whatever she wanted to do to me in the basement. Big Daddy was helping me. Dave said he was helping people out there – I was still wishing that at least that was true. Was I supposed to help people too? I felt the urge to go out there. I turned to leave the apartment, but before I went through the front door, I saw a raincoat, no, a jacket… trench coat thing hanging on a hook. Disguise. It made sense, I don't know why, but then I suddenly knew why – my cheeks felt hot. I knew I would be embarrassed walking out this way. People would be looking at me. _So why am I going out this way_?

I wore the trench coat over everything. Checked if my cape was poking out. It wasn't. Checked if anything was poking out, anything that would embarrass me. Nothing. There was a hood, so I pulled it over the purple wig, which was still dusty. My nose felt like sneezing, but couldn't. I removed the mask and threw it into a pocket. The trench coat was also a little dusty, but not too much. It felt different when I stepped out of Dave's apartment place. It was scary, as if I'd done something wrong. It felt wrong – it was wrong to carry around knives and pistols with me. Half-way down the corridor, I wanted to run back and return everything into Hit-Girl's locker, but I kept going down the corridor, the elevator anyway.

**Later…**

I didn't know what to do when I was out of the old apartment. For a while I walked. Then I saw a bus, so I just took it. It felt right somehow. Even with my trench coat on, people were still looking at me in the bus. They must have seen my purple wig. Purple hair was really rare, but people do dye their hair purple – right? "Kids and men these days…" I heard a woman sitting in front of me mutter to herself. I couldn't understand what she mean.

I took it down to another part of the city. I didn't even know where. There weren't as many people there. What was I doing? What was I thinking? I started walking again, just walking. Looking for people to help – That was what I was supposed to be doing, right? I still couldn't understand what did fishing and janitorial duty meant.

I had to sit down a lot of times. The boots were heavy. Everything I wore was heavy. I was aching everywhere. It was hot. _Am I really Hit-Girl_? I kept asking that question as I wandered alone in the city, in some place I didn't even know. _What does it even mean that I am Hit-Girl? What does Hit-Girl even mean_?

Then it came from the alley. The screams. It sounded like a woman. At first, I was afraid. Alleys were scary. I remembered waiting in one for 10 minutes, for Dave, and I remembered all the sounds I heard in an alley. They were smelly. But the screams sounded just as afraid as I was. I thought I heard it crying for help. _I am Hit-Girl, I help people, like Big Daddy and Dave_ – That was all I knew. So I ran into the alley.

There was a big man inside. He was so much taller than me. He was fat, like a monster, and he was wearing a singlet and jeans. There was a woman on the floor, and he was trying to take her furcoat off. I hid behind a dumpster. I didn't know what to do – the man was huge, and I was so little. He was a man, and I was a young girl. But a woman needed my help. _We're not animals, baby doll, no matter how much you want to be Hello Kitty or a puppy_, A voice said in my head. It was God, or Dad, _Size has no meaning, sugar. You know what has meaning_? "What?" I couldn't help but to ask, even though I know that there was no one with me. _The brain, the heart, the skills, the guns and knives. There's a lot of meaning in those_.

I put on my mask and pulled off my trench coat, leaving it behind the dumpster. I walked up to the huge, fat man. He was bald too. He was still tearing off the furcoat off the woman. My feet felt heavy because of the boots, and I think he heard me that way, because he turned around. His face looked scary, even worse than Dave's when he slapped me that time. I was shaking. I felt the sudden need to go. "What the fuck do you want, kid!? Just scram or I'll bust your head in!" His voice sounded like the thunder during a storm. I hate storms because of the same thing. I felt like running. I was already taking steps back. _Am I really Hit-Girl_? Then I saw the woman, who lifted her head to look at me. There was blood on her forehead. I wanted to scream at the big man, but…

"Let… let her go." I stuttered. I didn't dare to look up at him. I was looking at the ground instead. "Please." _Am I really Hit-Girl_? I could hear the huge, scary man laughing at me, laughing hard. I felt like crying – _Or am I making a fool out of myself? What have I done_?

"Or what? You'll beg me again? Fuck off, kid, before I fuck you up too!" The big man snarled, coming a little closer at me, growing bigger and bigger with every step. I couldn't help but to shrink away, so that the man would stop growing bigger. _What do I do what do I do what do I do_? I wanted to run, but I couldn't. I was supposed to help the woman. _Do the unexpected, darling. Do what normal girls won't do_.

"I said let her go, you big meanie!" I snarled back as I stopped shrinking away. I looked straight into his eyes. I was angry at him, angry at what he had done. I remembered hating the mean bullies in my school. Dave was right – there were people bullying others out there in the city. I pulled my combat knife out. I wasn't even thinking anymore, but I held the knife underhanded – was it supposed to be that way? It felt right. For the first time, the man's face stopped being scary for a second. I thought he was scared himself, but it became scary again very quickly.

"Yeah? Go ahead, you lil' cunt, let's dance!" The big man in singlet dared me. He was beckoning me to come forward and hurt him. He swore a lot. I hate it – I would never swear. It made me hate him even more. I wasn't thinking anymore. I ran forward and tried to stab him in his fat belly, putting both my hands against my knife's handle. I was still shaking a lot. But I couldn't hit Big Meanie. He jumped to the side, and before I knew he wasn't there, I felt PAIN exploding in my hip. He kicked me, and I was thrown at the wall. It was hard. It hurts. Hurts like nothing before. I wasn't thinking. I didn't stop. He was coming at me, and I spun around, tried to cut him in his fat belly again, but he dodged out of the way and kicked me into the wall again. I felt like fainting. I lost my knife that way – my hand felt weak, and I couldn't hold onto it much longer.

"Taekwondo, bitch! Brown belt! What about you!?" The big man shouted victoriously. _Do the unexpected, darling_. My throwing knives. I drew one out and threw it at him, but it missed. I was shaking too much. I threw another, and it hit him in the chest… on its flat side, "Comic books!?"

The big man rushed at me, grabbed me by the arm, and twisted it. I could feel my shoulder and elbow burning. I couldn't move. My arm felt like breaking off. He pulled me off the wall and into the middle of the alley. Then he let me go, but when I turned around, he kicked me in the face. White, I saw white everywhere. I felt like flying – I was flying backwards, but not for long. I felt myself landing hard on the floor. PAIN everywhere. I felt myself squirming on the floor – I didn't feel in control anymore, not even over my own body, "And that's me pulling back on you, baby fuck!"

I was sitting up when he came at me again. _Do the unexpected, darling_. I pulled out one of my purple pistols and pointed it at him. My pistol arm was shaking wildly. The gun shook. I could hear it shake. The big man backed away with his arms up, fearful again, "You cheap-shit fatherfucker!" I HATED IT WHEN HE SWORE. I tried standing up. I could barely. My legs were shivering. Pain everywhere. Everything in my eyes were blurry. I could almost hear ringing in my head. I couldn't hold my pistol with a single arm anymore, so I used both my arms. Even then, they were shaking so much.

I thought I was winning, but then the big man started chuckling, "You know what I think? I bet that's just a God-damn toy, you shit!" He said, coming forward at me again, his arms not as high up in the air as they were. He was coming closer, growing bigger, and bigger, "And even if it's real, you don't have the guts, you bitch!" SWEAR. He was coming closer. I was scared of the man, but I was also scared of the gun. I remembered (from where from where I don't even know!) that they were loud, and they could hurt people, and hurting people is bad, "Look at the way you're shaking! Yeah! I bet you don't have the guts!" He was smiling, and his smile was scary. He looked like he wanted to kill me.

He got closer again, and then lunged at me. I pulled the trigger. I did. But nothing came out. The trigger was stuck. And the reason came to me too late. _SAFETY_. It was the thing called safety. The big man fell on me, and took me down to the ground with him. On the ground, he was on top of me. He was heavy. So heavy! I couldn't breathe! He had his hand over my right hand, which was where I held my pistol. I couldn't hold on to my pistol. My hand felt so weak because of the shaking. He took it from me and threw it away. I was crying, crying so hard. _Am I really Hit-Girl_?

He was on top of me. I couldn't breathe. "You know what? I don't mind getting two for one today! Since you think you're such an adult, I'm going to fuck you like an adult!" He was shouting over me. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but what he said terrified me. It sounded like he meant he was going to hurt me, hurt me bad. It sounded like he was going to torture me. Then I remembered my other purple pistol. I struggled to pull it out. It was hard. He was on top of me, and he was pulling at my tights. He was trying to unzip me!

I reached inside below us as I was struggling to not be unzipped at the same time – he was a pervert! I struggled to unpin my holster, and at the same time I was screaming and thrashing. Managed to unpin it at the same time as the big man pulled off my cape. I jabbed him in the stomach with my elbow, but it didn't seem to hurt him, and then pulled my pistol out. _SAFETY_. The perverted big man flipped me around. I couldn't stop him. He was too strong. He unzipped my tights, revealing my vest underneath. I managed to off the safety on my purple pistol. It was… the word was 'live' or 'hot'.

As he was struggling against my vest thing underneath, I pressed my second purple pistol into his fat belly, my pistol sinking into his belly. He noticed, and I felt his hand closing around my second purple pistol. I fired. It was LOUD. I fired again. I was scared, so scared. I was crying. Crying as I fired. I fired again. Three times. I fired three… four times. My ears were ringing.

The big man looked shocked, very shocked when it happened. Then he stood up, finally leaving me alone. He stood up and backed away, holding his belly as BLOOD was pouring down. I saw… long, red things gushing out. He was shocked, and so was I. He backed away, looking more afraid than I was, then fell to the ground, no longer moving. This time, I really couldn't help but to cry. Pain, pain everywhere. I couldn't stand up, and I was a mess, with my cape aside and my tights unzipped down the chest, my vest nearly hanging out. I cried hard.

I killed a man, I killed someone, hurt someone with a pistol. Dave said it was bad, and now I knew for sure it was it was bad really bad what did I do? Oh God please forgive I didn't I thought I was helping he was on me he wanted to hurt me I had to do it!

But I couldn't stop no I knew I couldn't stop for some reason everything I 'knew' I didn't know where they come from I took my things put on my jacket and ran, ran for it, ran hard, leaving the woman behind I remember her looking shocked even if she was saved even she knew I had done something ghastly my God am I really Hit-Girl am I really? I ran, until I was far away. My mile-long run in the park helped a little, but I couldn't get away a mile away. I felt pain all over my body. I felt… ravaged. I vomited into a storm drain. I couldn't help it – the pain, the nausea, the perversion, the confusion – I couldn't help it. I felt sick.

I stopped at a woman's room later on, and hid in a cubicle. I cried inside. _Equipment check, sugarplum_. Another idea came. I needed something else to do, so I did it. 2 throwing knives – couldn't… couldn't find the one I missed with. 1 com-combat knife, 2 pistols, vest, cape and tights still… still good. I adjusted my wig. It was slightly askew.

I might have fallen asleep inside, or fallen unconscious. It felt like some time had passed when I woke up again. I didn't feel any better when I woke up. I decided to return back to the old apartment after that. When I stood up again, my whole body felt like glass cracking. It started aching all over. I had to walk slowly. I had to wash the blood from my face or people will stare. _What will I tell Dave and Dad_?

**Later…**

By the time I got back to the old apartment, it was midnight. I must have fallen asleep in the woman's room for hours. I could barely walk anymore when I got back. I fell on the benches in the kitchen when I was supposed to change. I felt like dying, and I had killed a man today. He was a meanie, but it felt so wrong – I felt so dirty, just as bad. I felt evil, like Demoness. I felt sinful. Was this how I was like before the bus accident? What have I done?

CLICK. The front door lock opened by itself. I sat upright. _What is that_? I couldn't understand the sound until I hear the door open. I was jumping inside and out. _What do I do what do I do what do I do_? My heart started racing and I started panicking. I grabbed the dress I left on the floor and bolted for the kitchen counters. I could hide well – I found out when I first followed Dave into the old apartment. I hid under the counters. I could hear footsteps. Heavy footsteps.

…

When I came into the apartment, the lights were on for some reason. My initial thought was intruders, but then I couldn't remember if I had switched off the lights or not, so I thought it was me. It had been a long day – admin work felt a lot more harder to do compared to the patrols or even the special operation we had at Jimmy Kim's. No wonder it was impossible to catch Superman doing his own personal admin work, though you had to wonder – so who's been crunching the numbers on the Fortress of Solitude and everything? In reality, being a superhero meant being a superhero at multi-tasking too.

I went into the storeroom to get changed – I could use a good night's sleep, though Mindy automatically filled in the void that Justice Forever left in my mind. She didn't even want me around anymore – as much as I was glad that she could manage on her own, I couldn't help but to feel a sting in my chest. I couldn't help but to speculate – was she giving up on me? Loneliness returned to haunt me quickly as I changed in the storeroom. I felt like a hopeless case in a noir film.

After getting changed, I went to the kitchen and sat for a while, on the bench, remembering that first week I had with Mindy. Going around the kitchen counters, I went to the fridge, which I switched on ever since I started using Safehouse F – the electricity bills paid for via Mindy's suitcase of three million dollars. Grabbed a diet Mountain Dew. It was tight around the counters, so I drank on the bench instead. It was only when I was half-way through that I was resolved to try to warm up to Mindy even more again – need I explain the reasons?

After I was done, I threw away the can and headed out – thinking of the possibilities of what I could do to get Mindy to open up to me again, to give me another chance.

…

I flew into action the moment the light was off. I had to change in the dark, and put everything back in place after that. And when I was about to leave, I forgot that I had to wipe away the blood and muck on my Hit-Girl uniform, which I quickly did. Dave had left, and he was returning home, which meant that I had to be home as well. But the more I thought about it, the more futile it felt, because Dave had left the old apartment better than me, and he was a better cyclist than I was.

I had to think of a good excuse as to why I wasn't home. For my whole trip back home, I had to think of something. But I couldn't. When I was home, I found the lights off. Dad was supposed to be on night shift, but Dave… I had to sneak into the house.

Peeking in through the window, I saw that Dave wasn't anywhere on the first floor, so I returned to the front door and unlocked it as quickly and quietly as it could. It creaked as I opened it. Dad hadn't fixed it. As I came up the stairs, I heard that the shower was on in the bathroom. Dave was taking a bath. I went into my room, into bed, hoping and praying that he did not check my room before I went into it.


	18. He Won't Hurt Me Again

**The Descent**

**Chapter 17: He Won't Hurt Me Again**

I slammed the door shut. Where am I? The room was pink. I kind of liked the colour. I stomped to my bed and jumped in. Why was I crying? Someone else opened the door. I didn't look at who it was. I wasn't in control. I was just lying down in bed, covering my head with a pillow, crying into the pillow.

I heard footsteps. The person behind me was huge. He sat down beside me. I could feel the bed move. I felt his hand (he was a he? How did I know?) on my arm. I shook it away. "Hit-Girl." He was calling me. I didn't respond. Was I Hit-Girl? "Hit-Girl." He had his hand on my arm again. I gave up on pushing it away.

"No! Dad! Stop! Stop calling me Hit-Girl!" My voice shook. I couldn't talk right. _Dad_? I was starting to think that it wasn't referring to the Lord above. So if the man with blonde hair and moustache wasn't God, then who was he?

"Mindy..." _Mindy_? "That man was a child molester, child. If you hadn't done what you did, you wouldn't even be here."

"I hate this." I shouted into the pillow, my words a little muffled by the pillow. "I hate you! Dad, why? Why!? Why did you send me in there!?"

"MINDY." It felt like he was shouting, but he wasn't. He was just being stern, "That asshole was a child molester. AND a murderer. He raped little girls like you and dumped their bodies in the middle of nowhere. He deserved that bullet you put between his eyes, Mindy." I continued crying. I wasn't in control. Am I in a dream? I continued crying for a bit. I felt Dad lying down next to me, not the way Dave did, but… further away. "Not only did you avenged those three before you, you stopped him from getting a few more."

"I… I know, Dad." I finally said. I understood something. "I… I just… I'm sorry." I cried even more.

"Hey… Shh… Hey…" He pulled me out of my pillow hole and cradled me in his arms. I liked it. It was then I realised he wasn't in brown jacket and sweater. He was in red tights with... Beige? Armour? Outside. He wasn't wearing anything on his head. Blonde hair and moustache. I had never seen anything like it, "It's fine, baby doll. You're six… You- It's fine."

Darkness. Light. I woke up to the pattering of rain outside. My whole body was still aching. My face felt like a broken vase. I could barely move. I tried to recall my dream, but I could only vaguely remember bits and pieces. I remembered that I was crying… _Hated being Hit-Girl… Was I called by a different name? What was it?_ Dave knocked on the door, and my train of thought was broken. His head poked in when I didn't answer – I used to jump happily whenever he came in, but now I couldn't feel as happy. It didn't take him very long to notice the cut on my forehead, and I could tell from his face that he could smell the stench – I didn't take a bath last night. He looked concerned after that. "What happened to you?" He said.

"I… Yesterday- I fell off the bicycle yesterday." I was still in pain, and it was hard to think of a good lie that way, "I ran into a wall, Dave. Am I in trouble?"

"Jesus, Mandy!" He was suddenly alarmed. He sat down beside me quickly, taking off my blanket. He started touching my arms for some reason, "Can you move your fingers? What about your arms and legs?"

"Dave, I'm fine. I'm just aching so much…" This time, I meant every word. Hard. "I can't move… It hurts to move, Dave." I remembered the hate I harboured for my brother. It felt wrong – he would always take care of me. I knew it right from the start. He wouldn't hurt me on purpose. Would he? I wanted to cry, but I controlled myself this time. Still, tears were coming down my cheeks.

"Hey… Shh… Hey…" Dave cooed at me. It reminded me of my dream. He had his hand on my forehead, "You're burning up. You're all sticky and sweaty. We're not going to school today, that's for sure. Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

"I wanted to. But I- I was afraid you'd be angry." I lied again. When will it end? It felt like when the both of us started lying, it could never stop. I didn't want to, yet… I just couldn't stop. It felt harder to be happy this way.

"Don't be silly, Mandy. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." Dave took me in his arms and lifted me off my bed. It hurts a little that way, but it was better than trying to get up on my own. Déjà vu. Somehow, it felt familiar, but I can't remember him doing this before. Dave took me out of my room, and into the bathroom, putting me on a chair by the bathtub. He turned on the tap for hot water… then reached for the buttons on my dress.

"Dave, no!" I didn't know why, but I was afraid of what he was about to do, even if I know it was supposed to be fine. I pushed away his hands – I didn't have a lot of strength left, but I didn't need it. He pulled his own hand away.

"Mandy… I know this is awkward, but I gotta get you cleaned up." Dave explained. I could tell that he wasn't a pervert, like the big man I shot yesterday, but… "Mandy! I'm your brother! I won't… You know! And you're like…"

"What, Dave?" I couldn't understand what he was trying to say. He was starting to sound like Daddy – he was always talking like this.

"You know." Dave repeated himself. It was then that I understood, but I was still reluctant to let him do it. It felt perverted even though it wasn't, even though Dave wasn't. I covered myself with my hands when he took off my dress and shoes. I had forgotten about my shoes, and crawled into bed with them on. He carried me again, and gently lowered me into the bathtub. The water hurts at first, but it felt good later on. I didn't hurt as much anymore. The hot water reached up to my hips. He started spraying and rubbing water on me. I didn't like him touching me at first, but it felt okay after that. It didn't feel wrong anymore. Dave was helping me.

"We aren't as close as we used to be, Mandy." Dave said as he was putting shampoo on my hair. I liked the smell. It was better than the alley smell I woke up to in bed.

"I know." I replied, but didn't know what else to say. What could I say? He stopped putting shampoo on my hair. He looked me in the eyes instead.

"I'm not at home as often anymore." Dave continued, "But Mandy… I know we could make this work. I just need your help."

"But you're not at home as often anymore." I repeated what he said – it was the truth. It felt like he didn't care anymore. He didn't know that I know, but he lied to me so many times. It felt like he didn't care.

"That doesn't mean I don't care about you anymore." It felt as if Dave read my mind, "You don't seem to mind Daddy being away for so long." There was nothing else I could say. He was right. I was being unfair to him. Yet… But…

"Okay…" I agreed. I held his hand. He felt closer to me again. I didn't even mind anymore that I was completely naked in front of him. It didn't matter. Dave wouldn't hurt me purposely, I knew that. I knew that all along. He started applying soap on me.

"I've been thinking. Do you still want to watch _Cars 2_ this week? If you're feeling better on Sunday, I could take you to the cinema after church. You want that, Mandy?" Dave offered. It was an offer I couldn't refuse. My heart leapt with joy. Then he seemed to leap a little too, as if he had an even better idea, "And I could invite Sal to join us. How about that?" I smiled. I was too weak to talk so much, but he understood.

When he was done washing me, he patiently wiped me dry with a towel, and then lifted me back to my room. He had to change the bedsheet and pillows. I couldn't remember why I hated him then anymore. All I could remember was the love between us. He was the best brother in the world. When he was done with my bed, he slipped my underwear and pyjamas on. I felt a little better, getting cleaned up. Then he brought his first aid kit into my room, and started applying a plaster to my forehead. "Hello Kitty, Barbie, Polly Pockets or Toy Story?" He asked. The selection was a little wider this time.

"Hello Kitty." I still found the strength to choose my favourite obsession. I smiled at the thought of the Japanese cat. It felt like something I love even before the bus accident. There was the Déjà vu feeling there again. Soon, there was an ice pack on my head and Dave was reading stories to me again. I liked _Hansel and Gretel _the most. It reminded me of me and Dave.

I just wish I could help him more. Maybe I could – _I'll be good to him from now on_. He lied to me so many times, but they were all the same lies, all the same lies about going out to help people felt like the last one. It felt like the only lie he had left for the rest of his life. _Was it even a lie? Or a half-truth? What if Dave was helping people elsewhere_? Dave was good – he'd never hurt me more than he did now, and even then, he did it to protect me – he didn't want me to get hurt following him out there, but I did it anyway. It felt like I was the liar instead. He wouldn't lie any more than he did. He wouldn't hurt me more than he did. He wouldn't hurt me anymore. _He won't. Would he? No, he won't._

When Dave left the room for me to sleep, I started thinking about last night again, about being Hit-Girl. _Am I really Hit-Girl_? All I knew was that I didn't feel like going out as Hit-Girl anymore. It felt like I wasn't Hit-Girl to begin with, yet... At the same time it felt like I was. I didn't know how to fight at all – in fact I didn't even think that I would ever get into a fight! But I remembered how I used the knives and pistols yesterday. Yet… I was scared of them, so scared of them. Why would Hit-Girl be afraid of them? She wasn't supposed to – I could tell from the photo. _Am I really Hit-Girl_? I started wishing, wishing that I could just talk to Dave about it. He wouldn't hurt me anymore, would he?

Then I drifted to the man I killed yesterday. I felt sad at the thought. I was frightened of myself. I was a murderer, a killer. Then I remembered the police. Would they catch me and put me in jail? _That man was a child molester_. I remembered dad or God… Dad (who is he now?) saying that in my dream. _He deserves the bullet you put between his eyes_. The dream wasn't about the big man, but it was close. It was then that I understood.

I wasn't wrong. He deserved to die. The thought still scared me, though. I could feel my hands shake under my fresh blanket, as if my pistols were still in my hands.

**Later…**

Our stunt back on Tuesday was widely publicised, even more so than our fight with the Bloods and the Crips in the subway. This time, we weren't just on Youtube, we weren't just on tweets and mentioned in Facebook – this time, we became important enough to be featured on a few serious news platform. We were on the New York Times and the WNRD. 'Seven arrested in Chinatown Prostitution Bust, Police aided by costumed vigilantes', the headline read on the internet. The journalists were quick enough to arrive with the police taking over Jimmy Kim's crew. Our photos and lines were featured in the articles. Come Wednesday, we were all busy doing our admin work, answering emails and most importantly, taking in new superhero applications.

It felt like we'd reached supercritical, the singularity of the superhero movement I started. It felt like the golden age, my golden age, yet at the same time, I knew I would have my work cut out for me, looking out for more and more of them, or even keeping an eye on them, watching their movements. I was never a crowd person, and ever since Red Mist, I was even less so.

We did the usual thing to induct the new members. We did it the next day, on Thursday, since it was a special occasion, the team expanding by another 50%. I didn't want to leave Mindy alone, sick in bed, but Dad came to the rescue, coming back home early to take over – he didn't seem to mind, as if some great news was coming up.

As the founding members, we met at the Justice Forever Headquarters, a little earlier, and this time, I got to be the one to surprise them with our secret entrance. The feeling was awesome when they scrambled away from the steel gates the way I did before, all four of them. Then began the round of origin stories, starting with the founding members, then moving on to the new members. Our lounge was getting crowded – we had to grab a few more chairs from the storeroom.

"Our society isn't working. The state, the nation, capitalism? All a sham." The Enforcer introduced himself, or rather, sounded like he was trying to convert us to his cause. He reminded me a bit of the latest Bruce Wayne, but his case wasn't convincing at all, "The police? Corrupted. Which is why I'm doing this. This is the answer – the people's initiative. Not the state, not the nation, not capitalism." It was admirable all the same, even if I didn't feel that superheroes should take over the White House. It stank too much of the final episodes of _Justice League Unlimited_, "I used to patrol the subways because of what I've seen there, because of what happened to me. It's the perfect nest for thieves and robbers."

"What happened, Enforcer?" I asked, out of curiosity, hoping at the same time that it wasn't anything embarrassing, like my first try at crime fighting.

"I was mugged and beaten up. They did it because of my political beliefs. It wasn't just assault and robbery. It was a hate crime. So much for free speech, huh?" The Enforcer replied, his eyes reaching the floor in contemplation, going back to the moment. I knew, because I was usually there in his place.

"Here in Justice Forever, we make a stand for free speech." The Colonel said, "Just make sure your talk doesn't turn into violence and you'll be fine. All-Seeing Eye?" All eyes moved from The Enforcer to The All-Seeing Eye, whose costume was a biker jacket over a shirt, a pair of high boots over a pair of generic pants – his face was wrapped and overshadowed by this huge lamp he wears on his forehead. It was too bright that the Colonel had to ask him to turn it off during the introductory meeting.

"I'm working as a journalist and photographer. I am always the observer, the guy chasing after the stories. I kept following murders. Heck, I was one of those who covered the Demoness massacres. I did it until I couldn't observe anymore. I want to be one of those who's doing something about it. I've seen enough." The All-Seeing Eye kept at it in one go. The world kept getting smaller, and smaller. Mindy was uniting all of us, one way or the other. She certainly inspired Colonel Stars and Stripes.

"It's good that you're taking this step. Shows that you have a heart, in addition to a good pair of eyes, or three." The Colonel joked, amounting to a few chuckles and some laughter. He was great with words that way. He was a charmer – although I can't help but to link it back to his previous life as a mob enforcer. They would need to do a good deal of charming themselves, "Welcome to Justice Forever. Moon-Bird?" When Moon-Bird came next, there was a pregnant pause as her head cranks up. She was a serious one – her white mask obscures everything but her eyes and hairline, but I could tell. She was deadly serious, full of hatred.

"I was raped. 'Nuff said." Awkward silence. I couldn't believe she was at first – she was almost as tall as the Colonel, and very well- toned. She looked like an African warrior-princess who could match Xena in her own game. Looking around, I knew a few others couldn't either.

"You'll fit in here to a T." Even the Colonel had to struggle to find the words. Whoever said that it was easy? "One of our core mission is the protection of women and children." He extended a hand for a handshake, his silvery teeth shining in his moderated smile. Moon-Bird stared at it, and I was almost certain that she would reject it, but eventually, she took it. It was touching in a way – the Colonel delivered again, "We'll make 'em pay together. God wills it."

"No good reason, sir." It was Hacksaw's turn, and he spoke in a voice as low as can be expected of him, "I was in the National Guard. Spent more time in Iraq than on my own soil helping people. Decided to fix that, sir."

"See? What did I say about the government?" The Enforcer chipped in. The Colonel looked at him impassively before turning his eyes back to Hacksaw.

"Your reason's as good as any." The Colonel finally said.

We felt unstoppable. Everywhere we went, we attracted awe and cameras. The patrol today did not faze the new comers – they were already accustomed to such a thing, patrols being the standard procedure for any superhero, no matter how new. Plus, I'm sure everyone could agree to the perks of being part of a team, not to mention a huge one, like Justice Forever. It felt like nothing before, except... even at this height, it felt nothing like being with Big Daddy and Hit-Girl. They were always there, haunting me. I could feel them walking with me sometimes, like ghosts, even if Mindy wasn't dead. Well, not exactly.

"Colonel, I've been thinking…" After the group was dismissed for the first time by the dozen and I was alone with the Colonel, with Nightbitch waiting at a corner, I turned my attention to the promise I made for Mindy. I imagined her in bed, by now being cared for by Dad – I couldn't break another promise again, "I'm taking Mandy to the cinema to watch _Cars 2_ after church. We could use your company." Surprisingly, the Colonel took some time to think about it – but then again, he was probably worrying about his job. He was a counsellor, and he worked after church. I was actually afraid that I had to break a promise again.

"Sure, I'll just phone my buddies at the office. They'll understand." The Colonel accepted my invitation, but it wasn't the end of it. He looked like he was tapping into my brain, "What's this about, Kick-Ass? Something tells me it isn't just fun and games." It was my turn to take some time to think. Surprisingly, there were so many things to consider before I talk, or maybe I was just too paranoid about causing one chain reaction or the other.

"Yeah well, it's Mandy. We aren't getting along like we used to. You're a qualified social worker, Colonel, and I need your help with that." I blurted out, unsure of what to say, of what was the right way. But it didn't matter, not with the Colonel.

"Not a problem, Kick-Ass." He patted me in the back, "Besides, there's something 'bout her. I can't help but to think of her out of the blue sometimes, like in the middle of midnight or afternoon at work. Feels like there's a connection between us. The way she looks at me sometimes…"

"What?" I didn't catch the last part. I was lagging behind, thinking about Mindy.

"Nevermind." The Colonel just said, and we parted ways. I joined Nightbitch at the corner, and we had a similar conversation, except…

"Don't worry about it, Kick-Ass. We're complicated, sometimes overly-complicated. We tend to say things we don't mean." Nightbitch went on with her advice – I had a tendency to trust her, since we were dating, even if we were doing it anonymously with some benefits on the side – I wasn't sure if there were any real feelings involved, "Tell you what – we should get to know each other a little better. I don't mind helping you out with Mandy – I'm always surrounded by kids at my ballet school, I know how to take care of them."

"Wow- Really? I don't know what to say, really, but thanks." I was caught off-guard by her offer to help. I smiled like an idiot. We'd been taking trips to the men's bathroom for so long that I was a beginning to doubt her feelings for me. In the back of my fucked-up mind, I was starting to think that she was getting it on with me for the fame of dating Kick-Ass, or just pure pleasure. And now, we're taking it to the next step right out of the blue.

"How about taking me out to dinner? Leave home the mask and costume?" It kept getting better and better, her smile and look on her face felt genuine again. It was time to get Katie Deauxma jealous – I'd found out months and months ago that it was all a lie, telling me that she was a lesbian to begin with. It was just an excuse, a lousy lie, but I fell for it all the same. The most important thing was, she's had it with me, and was desperate enough to do it to get me out of her hair, "And then we could talk about me taking care of your sister."

"That'd be awesome. How about… Next week?" The agreement was quick. I was excited at getting back into the game, and I could really tell that so was she. Kick-Ass' back on Spider-man's level again, after being banished from it by one Katie for a year, for so long. The only reason it didn't feel like eternity was Mindy – tragedy has a way of castrating you while he's your only friend. Look at all those noir films for reference.


	19. Stake Out

**The Descent**

**Chapter 18: Stake Out**

I woke up in the morning feeling a little better. The medicine Daddy gave me tasted horrible, but they helped, just like he said they would. It ached a lot to move, but I could move. It felt like after the first time I went jogging with Dave. When I looked out the window, it was still dark, but I knew it was morning. The clock said so: 4 o'clock. I didn't feel like getting up so soon, especially when my body still felt so achy from waking up, so I thought about the previous day – Daddy took care of me when Dave went away to help the city.

He told me stories, stories of when he was younger. He said that I used to have a mother, but she died long before the bus accident, before I could meet her. He showed me a picture of her, which he took from his own room. Her name was Alice Lizewski. She looked a little like Daddy, with brown hair – Daddy was all fatherly, and the Mommy I never knew looked so motherly, I wanted to cry when I imagined her with me, and how I would never know how it was like to be with her.

But it was funny, how I never thought about what happened to my Mommy. It felt as if having Daddy and Dave was natural without Mommy. It felt as if I never had Mommy to begin with. Daddy was tearing up as well. I held his hand, and he told me that I was a sweet little girl, his sweet little girl. Daddy was nice. When it was dinner time, he brought food up for me in a tray, setting it on my lap. It was when I was eating that he brought up some surprises.

HELLO KITTY POSTERS! And a few more Hello Kitty hairclip after I told him I broke the last one he brought. We had some great fun choosing where to put the posters. It was hard to decide where to put them, and we spent some time on it. "I love you, pal." He said after pinning up the last one.

"I love you too, dad." I said to him yesterday, even though I was sick and weak, and did it again this morning when I thought about it. I got up, my back and hip still on fire after getting kicked there by the perverted big man two days ago. Putting a hand on my forehead and I realised that my fever had broken. I didn't feel woozy or nauseas. I was fine again. Looking out the window, everything was blue. It was my favourite colour, coming close to pink and purple.

Instantly, when I was on my feet again, I thought about going back to the old apartment. It was calling to me again. But at the same time, I was reluctant. I didn't want to get hurt again, and then lie to Daddy and Dave about my sickness and injuries. I remembered my thoughts about how wrong it was to kill a man, but… I remembered the blood, the red things coming out of his stomach. Yet… I started doing push-ups again. Then a new idea I had – sit-ups and pull-ups. I could only do 6 or 7 push ups, about 10 sit-ups, and not even one pull-up. But I didn't hurt myself. Dave told me I was weak, but it felt like a lie, and even then, it was a lie I was comfortable with – as long as it wasn't a new one, it felt like Dave couldn't hurt me anymore.

I wanted to make up to Daddy and Dave, for taking care of me and for me lying to them, so I hopped into the bathroom and went through my morning routines as quickly as possible, before flying down to the kitchen. Every time Daddy and Dave made pancakes, I would watch them. Now I know what it took to make pancakes. I remembered the ingredients, and somehow, even the numbers came back to me – I was good that way at remembering things. It was funny when I looked back at myself weeks ago – it was hard for me back then, remembering things.

When they came down for breakfast, I was just about ready to present them my handiwork. My pancakes were a little charred, but they looked almost like theirs. I even made Dad his favourite coffee and Dave some hot chocolate. I imagined putting in some marshmallows – a crazy idea – but there weren't any marshmallows in the kitchen. They looked surprised when they saw me setting down the plates. "You'll make a good housewife." Dave joked as he sat down, but I knew it was what Daddy and Dave would want for me – to get married to a good husband, among other things. The idea didn't feel thrilling, at least to me – it felt wrong and right at the same time, to feel that way.

**Later…**

Dad came home just before dinnertime, and brought us out to a restaurant. We had to wear formally, and I found myself in a bare-shouldered blue dress. I was a little shy, wearing it, but at least it wasn't the Hit-Girl uniform. It brought the whole family together – Dad was not working the whole day, and Dave was not out somewhere in the city, helping people as I still like to believe. Dad said he had something important to tell us. I couldn't imagine what it was, but Dad seemed just as energetic as he used to be on the first week we met.

"I'm afraid there's going to be a few changes, kids." Dad said gravely. His face reminded me of a boulder, like the ones I saw in science class when the teacher would show us a documentary about geography. That was a little boring, but Dad was keeping me on the edge of my seat. It sounded horrible, "Just like back when mom passed away." _It sounded really horrible_.

"My working hours are going to change, and everything. You see, kids," He continued. The dishes came – I ordered a kiddy burger meal, but I didn't pay a lot of attention to it when daddy was talking. But then, a smile came on, but I was confused by it, "I've been promoted." It took me a moment to understand, but I did. Promotion. I knew that word, but it didn't come as quickly as simpler words.

"That's awesome, Dad." Dave congratulated, a wide smile on his face. I just smiled. Dave had said what I wanted to say. I took a sip from my blueberry milkshake.

"After one decade of being a supervisor – Manager. I'll be working office hours. 9 to 5." Dad explained. It took me a little time to absorb it all, but I felt my mind… lubricated a little. _Supervisor. To Manager. 9 to 5. Okay_. 'Going out as Hit-Girl – harder' I couldn't help but to think, and it was then that I couldn't help but to think about everything Hit-Girl. The man I killed, the woman I saved. The pistol I fired, the blood I shed. _The pain – the pain, then there's the pain_… "I'll get to spend more time with you guys. All thanks to you, Mandy." I felt his hand on my head, but the headache in _pain_ my brain _murder_ was _kill_ even _red_ stronger. I _blood_ clutched my _blade_ forehead. "You okay, buddy?" I didn't hear him at first, his voice taking longer to take hold of me, but when I did, it pulled me out, out of that alley where I killed a man. I smiled at _disembowelled_ him. "Must be your accident on Wednesday. You should get in bed early tonight, sweetie." I nodded at _killed_ him.

The headache didn't last. It faded away gradually. But when I picked up my knife and fork, my knife hand was shaking away, so I put them down, and just used my hands instead. Dave was still looking at me the way he always did – worried and a little afraid. He was looking at my mouth, I noticed as I bit down on my burger… and tasted something metallic, ironic. It was blood. Dad took the napkin on his side of the table and wiped my face, just below the nostril. I was bleeding again. I tasted my own blood, but somehow it felt alright, alright somehow. I was used to the blood. "I'm fine… Dad, thanks." I just said, and continued eating. I could still feel Dave's eyes drilling into me. _What, Dave_?

…

**2 July 2011, Saturday**

Dear Diary,

When Dave went away again, I didn't feel like going back to the old apartment. I'm still aching. But I am Hit-Girl, so I trained on my own when Dave was away. I did it in my own room so Daddy wouldn't see me. I couldn't do a lot, but I kept getting ideas on how to strengthen myself. I find it hard to believe that I am Hit-Girl, but when I kept getting ideas and Déjà vu like this, it became easier, and easier.

What I did in that alley would not have been done by anyone else. I can't imagine the girls in my class doing the same thing. They couldn't live without perfume, and they would positively die in an alley before even encountering the big man! They would complain about sweating and make-up all the time. I overheard some of the boys talking about it. They called it 'bitching'. SWEAR.

Sometimes, even now, I feel like giving up on being Hit-Girl altogether. Everything I love and cared about was right here, at home. It didn't feel like it mattered what Dave was doing outside. It just didn't matter. He loves me. I love him. Isn't that all that matters? I don't mind his lies – what could they do? My name still felt weird, but I like my name. Daddy and Dave would say it with so much love. I still couldn't remember much past what they told me. Yet… My dreams and nightmares…

Then Demoness came again.

…

"You're losing focus there, girlie." I heard her say when I was doing my homework in bed. She frightened me, because I did not expect her there. She was leaning on a wall just beside the door. I turned to her. She helped me before, but I was still afraid of her, especially when she would come close to me and touch me, "Giving up already?"

"This is just the beginning, you know." She continued. I didn't look at her. I continued adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing fractions, but I couldn't concentrate with her beside me. She had gotten up beside me, running a finger down my spine, sending shivers the same way.

"The beginning of what?" I said as sternly as I could. I wanted to try to stand up to her, but she just chuckled at me. It was as if she enjoys seeing me angry.

"You want to know where he's going, don't you?" It wasn't even a question anymore. She knew exactly what I wanted, no matter how much I tried to stop thinking about it. I didn't say anything. I multiplied two fractions wrongly. I tried the question again. I could feel her entire hand on my back, going down, and down, lower. It made me angry. I pushed her hand away and sat up, glared at her – it felt good when I did that, so I glared at her. It felt like it would make her go away, but she laughed all the same. She was never afraid, "You get the feeling that there's always more, don't you?"

"More what?" I asked as sternly as I could. She was starting to play with my hair. They were growing longer. I had to tie it into a very tight bun when I put on Hit-Girl's purple wig. I froze as I could even feel her cold hands before they touched my face, before she cupped my chin in her hand.

"You know what I mean, girlie." Demoness said, and immediately it sprung to mind. LIES. Dave's LIES. More LIES.

"You're LYING!" I sprung to my feet, pushed Demoness and her lies away, "You're lying! Dave won't lie to me again! He won't!" I was shaking. I was angry – she was saying bad things about my brother. He wouldn't hurt me again.

"So go see for yourself, girlie." Demoness said, too calm as she was leaning on the wall I pushed her to. I balled my hands into fists. She came closer again. I hated her for saying what she said, so I punched her in the cheek. It didn't seem to hurt her. She would just laugh, but a trickle of blood was coming down her nose. Blood was also coming down my nose. A small trickle. I wiped it away, but when I looked up again, Demoness was gone.

…

**3 July 2011, Sunday**

Dear Diary,

We went to church today. I prayed at the giant cross. I prayed for forgiveness for hurting and killing the big man, even if he wasn't a good man. Pastor Harkman said that hurting and killing people are wrong. It was even written in the bible. I didn't pray for anything else. Dave told me to pray only for bigger things – and I don't believe that Dave would hurt me again. God or Dad did not appear – I don't even know who the blonde man I have been seeing is anymore. But I did feel a little better after praying.

Dave did not break his promise this time. Sal drove us to the cinema today. He promised Daddy that he would take care of us. Daddy trusted him, and Sal is my friend, so it was okay. We watched _Cars 2_. Something weird when I watched it. Déjà vu. It felt like I watched the movie before, but at the same time, I did not. Dave said that the film was new, so I didn't watch it before. But Lightning McQueen, that red car, sounds familiar.

Sal took us to a nearby diner after that. He is a nice man. While we were eating, he asked about me and Dave. It was nice of him to try to get to know us better. He told me about his own family, how his parents died when he was even younger than Dave, and how he would fight with his sister but still, they love each other in the end. I think I understood what he was trying to say, even if he didn't know about me and Dave. We both told him the good things and left out the bad stuff. Sal is a very good friend. He didn't even need to try so hard.

I think I understand. But I need to know more about Dave, about what Demoness said he was hiding from me. I love Dave no matter what – I understand now, in my own way, and in the way Sal told me. I love Dave, and I needed to know what he was doing outside – what if he needs me? Why is he hiding things from me? Dave won't hurt me again.

…

**4 July 2011, Monday**

Dear Diary,

I went to the old apartment again. But I had to lie about doing a project at Pete's place (it was for a good cause so don't judge, diary!). I started exploring Dave's secret place again. There was a storeroom that I think Dave would go in. When I went inside, I was shocked by the contents. There were guns and swords and knives and clubs on the shelves inside. There were hundreds of bullets. Then there was a large suitcase thing on the floor with a green rubbery suit. There were two sets in the suitcase, as well as yellow gloves and boots that are a little shorter than mine.

But I was looking for something else. I needed to follow Dave, so I was looking for disguise. Hit-Girl had a trenchcoat on the front door, so I thought – and believed – she had more things to disguise herself with. I found them in a bedroom, in a cabinet. Hair colouring, make-up, spectacles, all kinds of clothes. I took a few things. When I came home, I hid them in my cabinet. Not even Dad would open my cabinet. He wouldn't even touch my clothes, especially underwear, after the washing machine. He said it was inappropriate.

…

**5 July 2011, Tuesday**

Dear Diary,

I've been sneaking into the school gym to do more exercises. I've feeling a lot better, and I was doing a lot better. It felt natural to me, exercising. I had ideas. I started doing sets of everything, but I couldn't do too many, like 2 sets of 10 push ups and sit ups (if the last few ones could be counted) but only 2 pull ups. The pull-ups were the hardest. My hands would hurt a lot after I fall down.

I did stretching. I saw some cheerleaders doing it, so I tried it out myself. It felt like I needed it, but I did it at home, because I was a little shy. And when I tried to do it, stretching felt the easiest to do unlike the pull-ups. It felt as if I was that stretchy even before I knew about it! I couldn't do a split yet though – that one was tough, and it hurts!

I wish I could run more though. A single mile was becoming too easy for me, and Dave wouldn't even let me overtake him! He said it was dangerous because something might happen and he won't be able to reach me in time if he was too far away. It makes sense, I guess.

I've been trying on different disguises for tomorrow. I locked the door to do it just in case. When I looked into the mirror, I could barely even recognise myself! I would colour my hair black, put on coloured lenses (it was difficult to put on contact lenses! I spent an hour even with the instructions, and it hurts sometimes!) and fake spectacles, a dress and then the trenchcoat. I was good at hiding, but I couldn't imagine that I was good at disguising myself too. Was it because Dad and Dave had been encouraging me to dress and put on make-up for the past month? It felt like it.

…

**6 July 2011, Wednesday**

Dear Diary,

Dave was dressed in the green rubbery suit. He had weapons on him. He wore a vest that reminded me a little of Hit-Girl's, and even a helmet. I remembered a green angel in my dreams, with wings of silver and fire, stopping the bad guys from taking me. Was Dave that green angel? Did he save me? But it was a dream – can it be real?

I followed him. He didn't even notice me. When I was in my disguise, my eyes were amber in colour, and I had black hair and spectacles. I even had a cute little mole on my face, and I was in a trenchcoat, something I normally won't wear. I followed him up a bus, and then into the city. But there was some place I couldn't follow him into. It was around the back of a building, and there were these steel doors which he disappeared into. I kept waiting, and waiting, but he wouldn't come out of there again. What could he be doing in there? I waited for half an hour, and then gave up and went home.

But in that half an hour, I saw people in costumes going in. They didn't look evil. They were superheroes, and so was Dave. When Dave said that he was helping people through the Good Samaritan Hotline, I would never imagine that he would be dressing up like a superhero – like the Buzzard I saw the first time I went jogging – to help people.

…

**7 July 2011, Thursday**

Dear Diary,

Dave wasn't supposed to leave today, so I followed him again, with the usual disguise. I did it like the last time. Except this time, Dave went a different way, and he wasn't cycling. I had to follow him into and out of a bus…

…

Miranda Swedlow. That was Nightbitch's name. Her name was a lot more pleasant than I imagined – but then again, the more I learnt about her, the more I expected it. She was a ballet dancer since young, before turning to teaching ballet. She played the piano and violin, but dancing was her first love, at least before her sister was murdered, and now becoming Nightbitch was her lover, hotly contesting ballet, husband for more than a decade.

We agreed to meet up at a diner. She wasn't exactly an uptown girl, and I was nowhere near Bruce Wayne in any way. It started out awkward. I came in early, so I took a seat waiting for her. Turns out, she was doing the same thing, and when I called her, I heard her voice simultaneously on the phone and just at the next table. Well, some humour to start the day could work too.

**Later…**

"So, aren't you going to tell me about Dave's lovely little sister?" Miranda started on the after-dinner subject in her own sweet way, the way she was leaning gracefully on an arm, her voice swaggering in a way that could never go wrong. She was beautiful with or without the mask, but without the mask, I could safely say that I was in love.

"Er- Where do I begin?" It was a sudden topical change I wasn't used to. My mind worked on overdrive, going back in time hours, days, weeks, shifting through thousands of pictures. In the end, I took out my cellphone and figured that I should start with Mindy's picture first. Passing the phone to her, I anticipated her reaction – I've had too little experience with girls to tell what she would do next. It was almost like watching _Da Vinci Code_.

"She's…" But in the end, Miranda wasn't as explosive as I predicted that she would be – put my expectations down to being exposed to a ton of Mindy, but even Mindy's girlishness was running short lately. From a mixture of playfulness, lust and love, my girlfriend's eyebrows went the opposite way, "She's beautiful." It was then that I realised that I had made a serious mistake. How could I have forgotten? Miranda had lost her sister to a murderer not too long ago, and I brought the subject back from the dead last week. I was starting to feel like a born bachelor. My punishment were tears and snot from the famed Nightbitch herself – I had broken one of the most prominent members of Justice Forever accidentally. _Good job Dave Lizewski_! "She's so beautiful."

"Oh God- Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" I stumbled, setting off a few Colonel Stars and Stripes in my head – being used to being in Justice Forever with Nightbitch had its merits or demerits, depending on how you look at it. _Yeesh! Language_, the Colonel in me would say. Or: _Yo, don't take the lord's name in vain_, for one with a religious touch.

"It's fine, Dave." Miranda said, her voice almost cracking. She wiped her tears away, manning up quickly. She was admirable in costume, but more so now, "I'm sorry. Let's just talk about your sister, not mine." An awkward pause. I didn't want to just talk about Mindy anymore – I'd opened Miranda up, and a lot came up. She, on the other hand, needed time to calm down and think. I hate awkward pauses.

"How is she like?" Miranda finally continued the conversation. Her eyes were a little red, but she was otherwise fine. Something told me her strength was hard fought over months of uncontrolled grief. We were a match made in heaven that way. I could relate.

"Well… Mandy's a lot of things. She's smart, she's gentle and loving. She's a real girl." I went on to describe Mindy with words, words that still wouldn't fit her no matter what. _Oh, and by the way, she used to ambush drug dealers. She enjoyed shooting and knifing them and generally fucking them up for the greater good. Expect one f word or the other every five minutes from her, but she means well_, "She clings onto me tightly, and I need her too. She's a responsibility I take seriously, I guess." _Yeah, because I helped kill her biological father. Oh, and don't forget the best part! I. Drove. Her. INSANE. Took a year for her to recover, yeah, a year, and even then, she's not herself anymore_.

"Lucky you. Sounds like a perfect family you have there." Miranda said enviously, her position I could understand quickly – her parents were both dead by one diseases or the other that even her entire family fortune could not cure, and her sister was buried in the worst grave possible, where the trash was

"Actually, it's not all flowers and sunshine, really." I said, trying my best to be humble, putting things a little too mildly. I didn't want Miranda to feel the way she did. This time, the truth was on my side at least, for once. "We had lots of argument. We even fought once." It felt elating, spilling everything to someone not within the family. Heck, even Dad was oblivious to most of the bickering between me and Mindy because of his job, though his recent promotion to a manager in his security firm would fix some of that.

"It's only once. My sister and I used to fight all the time. We just made up in the end." It was obvious that Miranda does not know. I continued spilling everything – I had to. It felt like the light at the end of the tunnel, except it wasn't that corny, not for me. It was a chance for me to stop being a lonely antisocial. I spilled everything about Mindy – starting with her discharge from Jameson Psychiatry Institute, her memory loss, the threat of her relapse. Naturally, I touched a bit on her being Hit-Girl and Demoness. It was unavoidable. I remembered crying, when I kept telling her that I was afraid day and night that she would relapse. It passed in a haze – I needed Miranda's light at the end of the tunnel.

By the time I was done, her eyes were no longer red, and the grief on her face was replaced by overwhelming surprise, her mouth wide half the time. She knew about Hit-Girl and Demoness, everyone did, but just a few minutes before, she did not know that her new boyfriend's adopted sister was Hit-Girl and Demoness. She tried to speak, but words did not come out. In the end, I paid for the bills and took her by the hand out of the diner. I could sense her doubting me, and I'm not sure if I was being paranoid around people anymore. I needed the surest way I know to convince her.

**Outside the Diner…**

I watched as Dave finally went out of the diner, taking a woman with brown hair with him. As I waited patiently, leaning on a lamp post, I remembered a new word – 'Stake Out'. I was doing a stake out, and I was staking out Dave. Together, they boarded a bus, and I went in just before the door closed. The bus captain shouted at me, but I didn't care. Warily, I walked past Dave and the woman he was with. Brushing past next to them – Dave did not notice. I sat down in the backseat. I kept staring at them. I could almost make out what they were saying, but it was hard. There were a lot of people talking, and the bus engine was loud.

'Where are you-' I heard Brown-Haired Woman said. 'You'll see.' Dave replied. It was easiest to make out what Dave said. They didn't talk anymore after that. The three of us sat silently in the bus. I kept staring into the back of Dave's skull. _What are you hiding from me_?


	20. Hurt Again

**The Descent**

**Chapter 19: Hurt Again**

The bus took us to an apartment with white walls. I did things just like in the old apartment, following Dave and the woman inside. With my disguise, I wasn't afraid to get into the same elevator as them. Dave could not recognise me, even when he looked me straight in the face. All I did was to keep them quiet – whatever it was they were talking about sounded serious, so serious that they didn't even want a passer-by to know about it.

Dave went for the top floor. I pressed the button two floors below his, avoiding his suspicion, and when I exited on the floor below, I took the stairs up to spy on them. I did it quietly – no running – so that they won't know I was following them. By the time I poked my head out, they were already in front of a door at the end of the hallway, getting in.

I had to wait again, just like the way Demoness taught me. But what more could Dave hide from me? He lied about the Good Samaritan Hotline, but the truth was even better: Dave was a superhero, just like the Buzzard in the park. Dave broke a few promises, but he made up for them. _He won't hurt me again_.

**Later…**

It took them half an hour to leave, my watch said so. I was still wearing the _Spongebob Squarepants_ watch Dr Paul gave me. It was a mistake, and I was surprised that Dave didn't discover that I was following him. I'd zoned out for most of the time. I kept telling myself that Dave won't lie to me again, that he won't hurt me again _because he won't_. The elevator bell woke me up. I kept asking myself if this was what I used to do as Hit-Girl before the bus accident, but I couldn't remember the answer. It couldn't even be a yes or a no.

Just like in the old apartment, I went to the door Dave was at. I still had the Hello Kitty hairclip I broke, so I took it out and started picking the lock again. It was harder this time. The lock was different, and my lockpicking hairclip had gotten softer the more I used it. I played the piano, pushing the keys inside, trying to get the rhythm. Then it snapped, my hairclip. I pulled the drastically shortened thing out, unsure of what to do next.

I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to do it again, but I had to break another hairclip Daddy gave me. Taking it off my lengthy hair, letting it fall, I pulled it apart, another Hello Kitty face falling off. I ignored it the best I could. It was upsetting. Untold words came into mind. _Damn it, Dave_. SWEAR.

Inserting the new lockpicking thing, I fished out the other half of my old hairclip inside and got to work again. I was halfway through. I had to press my ears closer to hear the clicks. It felt horrible, not knowing what was on the other side of the door that Dave had to be so secret about. I found myself thinking more about that than the lock, but the door unlocked while I was doing so, even when I was a little distracted. It felt like I was getting better at lockpicking – but it didn't feel like something to be proud of, yet there was something inside praising me, telling me that I was a good girl, that I was his baby doll.

I swung open the door. A pink luggage on the side. An empty hallway. I walked in, a little frightened by this new place. The lights were off, so I groped for the switch, but I found the switches faster than expected. Déjà vu. The next thing I saw was a door with a keypad by its side – the keypad was small. I didn't know how I noticed it. I reached for it – felt the familiar texture of the polymer. Some of the buttons felt familiar. I pressed a few numbers, and it purred like a kitty cat. What did it do? It felt like the right thing to do. _Security alarm_. The words came up, and I understood.

I went into the door the keypad was protecting, and I was surrounded by guns everywhere, not just pistols, but also… assault rifles, shotguns, machine-pistols, sniper rifles. The words hit me one after another as I saw all the guns on the walls. Who would own such things? I couldn't help but to shiver at the sight, at all the guns, all the guns that could kill, that could spill blood. They surrounded me like a pack of wolves. _Getting closer, getting closer, about to shoot, about to kill_! Who would own such things? But something pulled me out.

The answer to my question was on a desk. A picture of two persons. It was dark, so I couldn't see. I started looking for switches again, and after I found them and returned to the picture, I saw myself in the picture, and immediately next to me was Dad in his blonde hair and moustache. I could remember now. He wasn't God. He was Daddy all along, and I was adopted. Twice. I couldn't remember my previous adoptive father. Blonde hair and moustache. He was real, all real. I wanted to touch him, to feel his face again. The photograph would not do, _it would not do_. I wanted to find him again, but I remembered that I won't find him again, _because Daddy's dead, too late_.

My legs felt weak. I had to sit down. Everything Dave told me was a lie, and 'Daddy' lied along with him too. I remembered. Dave LIED about everything. He LIED about everything. The bus accident, my name, my 'mother', how I was like before, even the colour I liked. He LIED about everything, that's why I couldn't remember what he said as memories. Yet, it all felt so real, the past month. Dave was never my brother all along, but I couldn't stop loving him as my brother. Dave's father was nice to me all along, I knew I couldn't leave him. Yet now I felt like running away. They made me happy, so happy, but now it felt like I was in a pit.

I started remembering things. Bits and pieces. Daddy drawing on the other side of the room full of guns, flashes of myself. I watched television in this room. _But I am Mandy Lizewski_. I love Dave and Daddy. They took care of me, even when it was hard. They made me happy before. Yet they LIED to me. They LIED to me! _Who am I? Who am I!? Who the hell am I!?_ SWEAR. I looked at the photo on the desk again. It was me, with my real daddy. I tried to remember more, but I couldn't. All I remembered from before the bus accident _no there was no bus accident_ were tiny bits. I remembered I used to swear a lot, but thinking back, I found it distasteful. I remembered another room nearby was my bedroom.

_WHO AM I!?_ I believed that Dave wouldn't hurt me anymore, but I was wrong. So much pain, so uncomfortable. I couldn't even understand who I am anymore. I could feel a headache coming on, but I couldn't help it. It came on quickly. _I am not Mandy Lizewski, I don't love Dave, and my Daddy isn't Dave's. No, I am Mandy Lizewski – Dave took care of me, and so did Daddy_. Who else am I? No other names came up. Dave hid it from me, he hid it from me.

"See what I mean?" I heard Demoness, but when I tried to find her, I couldn't see her anywhere, "I'm right, aren't I?" She sounded like she was behind me, but when I turned around, I couldn't see anyone.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. So many things – confusion, my splitting headache, all the new memories clashing with my life. There were so many things and Demoness was getting on my nerves, "Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!" I couldn't control myself. I slammed my fists down on the table. Pain erupted in them, down to the bones. Something I didn't know I was capable of. I pulled at my hair – the pain in my head was too much, I slammed the desk. _Blood out! Blood bleeding out! Out my nose_!

Then she was in front of me. She had found herself a new black dress to replace her towel. She came ominously towards me, but I was too angry at everything to be afraid. "Good, keep getting pissed off, girlie. You're getting there." Demoness said.

I left the apartment – my apartment soon after, leaving Demoness behind. I couldn't stay there anymore, where all the truth was, where Dave kept all the truth hidden. Dave LIED to me about everything, and now I need to find out about everything. I knew I had another name, that I was someone else, but I couldn't remember. I was someone else, and so was Hit-Girl. Hit-Girl wasn't Mandy Lizewski. I knew I am not Mandy, yet I wanted so much to be, yet I am Mandy. Yet I am not. _Who am I_? _WHO AM I_!?

**The Next Day…**

"Mandy?" I called my sister over the dining table. She was just sitting there, not touching her cereals, almost in a trance. It was starting to worry me. She wouldn't move, wouldn't even blink. It was only when I placed my hand over hers on the table that she gazed up at me, but something was wrong. She did it in a dreamy sort of way, lacking focus, lacking emotions, "Mandy? What's wrong?" She looked away again, and retracted her hand. She looked down, her eyes on her end of her table. Never a good sign.

"Nothing." Mindy said dreamily, her voice lethargic, her eyes still on their own, "Still a little sick, I guess." She looked at me again and smiled, but I could tell that even that took effort. Then she finally started eating, but I could tell that her appetite wasn't exactly voracious, "How was your date yesterday?"

"Yeah… It went really well. We'll be seeing each other again really soon." I replied, the bare mention of yesterday forcing me to recall yesterday. When I came home a little later than I planned because of my trip to Big Daddy and Hit-Girl's headquarter and then the park after that, Mindy had locked herself in her room. She had never done that before.

"What took you so long to get back home, Dave?" She continued questioning me. I could just about tell what Mindy was getting at – it sounded like the usual. She wanted to be with me more, and Thursday was supposed to be one of those days, except Miranda came into the picture.

"Mandy, you wouldn't know how it's like yet but…" At the same time, I had avoid mentioning the bit about us both going to her late father's headquarters, "when two people are in love, they'd want to spend more time with each other…" The way Mindy behaved, I couldn't tell how she took it. She looked too depressed for Mindy, and for an 11-year-old in general.

"Isn't there something you want to tell me?" My adopted sister suddenly said, her sad, green eyes begging me for something. At first, I was at a loss for words, but then again I just had to switch gears a bit. It wasn't the first time she was being clingy to me. I moved myself and my chair next to her. Gave her a hug, kissed her in her forehead. Dad would have approved, but he was away at the office early. I would never have imagined myself this way just a month ago, but I guess had I had a sister much earlier in my life, this would have been how I would be like. Mindy was a little stiff – it was almost as if she tensed up when I touched her. She didn't move much, her eyes still staring at where I used to be.

"Look, Mandy, we'll get to spend some time together, but it can't be every day." I said, trying to get her to lighten up a bit. It felt like an uphill struggle these days, "I've got a life of my own, you know. Besides, it's the quality of the time we spend together that matters, don't you think?" I released her, but she just sat there, as still as before. It felt as if the answer I gave her wasn't satisfactory, but it was the best I could do. I'd have to rely on plan B: letting her cool off on her own. Picking up my empty bowl, I brought it to the kitchen sink to wash it. "You really need to eat, Mandy. The bus is coming in 15 minutes."

15 minutes later, Mindy barely touched her bowl of cereal. When the bus' horn sounded through the windows and door, she grabbed her Hello Kitty bag and slung it over her shoulder sluggishly. I followed her, put an arm over her shoulders, but she pushed it off, wriggled out of it even, as if I hadn't showered for weeks. She had gone from upset to mad again. "Mandy! Ma-" She stomped out of the door on me. I had only one consolation: _She'd cool off after a day, maybe in even less than that. Yeah, she always did. _Yet, the way she did not explode, the way she did not shout or cry as much concerned me greatly. _No, she'll be fine_.

**Later…**

Justice Forever was expanding quickly, very quickly in such a short time, such that we could even form a second group, or squad, or team, or whatever immediately. A new batch of superheroes had just came in, and the lounge was no longer suitable for introductions anymore. We had to do it in the main hall. There were 12 of us starting last Friday, and now we had six more joining us wholesale. It had only been a week, and it was another 50% growth, though that's only taking into account the numbers. You certainly can't consider Captain America 'just one man'. As time passed, the people joining the superhero scene were becoming more and more serious. I wouldn't have suspected that Colonel Stars and Stripes was just the midpoint of this trend, as now we have…

**Ronin:** A badass samurai in all but name. He's a Chinese-Japanese who just migrated in from Japan a few weeks ago. He was looking for his elder brother, who was in the Chinese triad in New York City. He had no idea where to find him, and when he heard about Justice Forever, he decided that we were the best place to be since we're dealing with crime.

He wears a full samurai armour, red in colour but cool in design. It had this awesome mask thing that looks absolutely terrifying to cover his face. He wasn't even that tall, but he looked just as imposing as the Colonel. And he even had a Katana and 'Wazikashi' and a WW2 era rifle on his back. The Colonel objected to all this, but Ronin promised not to use them at all, except in the most extreme of circumstances, which the Colonel still objected to. Thankfully, our resident samurai also had a 'Shinai' thing, which is like a bamboo sword. According to him, everything he had belonged to his grandfather, which were passed down to his father, who died just before he came to New York City. Knowing Asian films, I suspect a connection between his dead father and his Triad brother.

When he introduced himself, he didn't even have a superhero name to begin with. We had plenty of fun coming up with a name for him. We started with the obvious one, Samurai, but it was just too corny and expected. The Tsunami didn't work either, and neither did Marty's 'Blade', which reminded me too much of the movie. So in the end, we went with Ronin, which even our resident samurai agreed to. He said it fits him very well, 'considering the circumstances', he said.

**Sergeant Crescent:** Another military themed superhero whom the Colonel was very glad to have. He was a Chinese guy, not very tall, but a few years older than me, a little over 20. His family came in from Singapore, a country I had no idea existed before I heard about it from him. His father was a businessman, and had migrated just six months ago to relocate his import/export business here. He became The Crescent after his father was cheated by a fellow businessman with links to the mafia and hung himself out of shame. His family was brought to near bankruptcy, and that includes himself, his mother and his uncle's family.

His gear was memorabilia from Singapore. Apparently, every guy there was required to serve in the military for 2 crazy years. The poor guy finished his 'National Service' as he calls it just before his father made the decision to move to New York City. Still, I wouldn't have minded military service – it would have helped Kick-Ass kick ass.

Anyway, he's in some kind of a jungle digital camo military fatigue with the Singapore flag sewn on his shoulders (the way the Colonel had the US flag sewn on his) along with red round Velcro badges with a white crescent on both arms. He had vest, helmet and guards. His face was obscured by a pair of tank goggles and camo scarf. He had a 'rattan shield' and this beastly wooden club for weapons.

**Neonstyle Epilepsy:** A colourful fellow who was an electrician by day, and light fanatic by night. He had no real reason to be a superhero, like Marty and me, so I had to watch out for him, though everyone's suspect.

His light sources would put the All-Seeing Eye and his headlamp to shame, as not only does he have batteries and torches in most of his pockets, he had flareguns and lightsticks in the pockets on him where there weren't torches. Oh, and a shoulder lamp too, like the kind found in _Aliens_. His reason was rather poetic. He wanted to bring light to the world.

**Monk:** Someone who finally won Colonel Stars and Stripes in the age department. He looked to be over 60, but his demonstration with his staff contradicted that impression. He wasn't so much a superhero as someone who's just trying to help. He was dressed in some orange robes and monk's sandals and white socks (though how it was brandless escapes me), and like Insectman, wears no mask. After some thoughts on it, being maskless would be fine – some comic book heroes don't wear masks, after all. Frank Castle, I'm looking at you.

His reason for joining the club? Our take down of the brothel in Chinatown. He was a monk at the local monastery there, and he was so appalled by what his people had done that he decided that somebody had to repay the damages that Jimmy Kim and his gang of Korean and Chinese mobsters incurred through their criminal enterprise. No one objected to his reasoning. How could anyone? It was way too cool to have a Raiden-like guy with us. Well, minus the supernatural powers. But his martial art skills would be close enough!

**Questioner:** A guy dressed like a detective, except he's got a gasmask on. According to him, he was hardly in a costume at all. He professed to being a private investigator. Like All-Seeing Eye, he'd gotten sick of always becoming the observer. Not to mention, he was also sick of investigating on cheating spouses and truant kids, and wanted to solve actual problems. His intervention as a private investigator wasn't much of an intervention either – what got to him the worst was whenever he received the news that whatever results he came up with ended up with some violence involved thereafter. And it happened quite a number of times.

He wasn't armed at all, but like some private investigators, he used to be a cop, so he knew how to fight unarmed, and he knew how to handle firearms if he needed to. The Colonel was the first, as usual, to tell him to either bring it unloaded or leave it at home loaded.

**Target-Lock:** A guy in blue fatigues, helmet and goggles. He wore a black vest with a black, white and blue bullseye target right smack on his chest as his symbol. His costume raised a few eyebrows, but its origins, I'd gotta admit, was far better than mine. I chose mine just because it looked cool, out of a few selections. Heck, I almost ended up with a devilish red set of scuba suit.

He had a bullseye on his chest as a symbol of his purpose: he wanted to be the target in place of everybody else, including the innocent, children, women, the elderly. He would be actively sacrificing himself just by stepping out of the door with the literal target board on his chest. But at least he a Kevlar plate inside, so it wasn't all bad.

He had no weapons, but he's a college guy and an active athlete, or a jock in highschool terms, but he seemed like a nice guy. He looked upon his speed and smarts as his weapon – for his sake, I hope that he wasn't overestimating himself.

…

Briefing went a little longer than expected, but it was way worth it. Justice Forever was going places, and it wasn't just fame on Youtube, the internet forums or the press. The word from the Colonel was… even if what we did bordered on the illegal, plenty of the official law enforcers out there actually liked what we were doing. The Colonel was even growing his networks within the police force. He knew a few patrolmen and detectives who were willing to support him, and he had plans to cast a bigger net. "With some hope, we'd get our own commissioner Gordon, huh?" Marty quipped, shaking with excitement at what he was part of during our meeting. We were all muttering in agreement.

With Justice Forever 18 members strong, we had to split up – we couldn't march around as one huge party. We'd be disrupting traffic that way. In the end, the Colonel decided that the newest members should form 'Bravo Party', as he called it, but for the first week, he would take charge of it. I was asked along, and so was Nightbitch. We agreed readily – how could I not? I just couldn't wait to see them in action. In the meantime, Insectman was given control of the prestigious 'Founding Party'.

And when things get big, it reminded me of something else. Back in Jimmy Kim's illegal brothel, the head gangster mentioned a name. Ralph D'Amico. He mentioned that he would 'hang' us for trashing his place. The fact that nothing happened made it seemed like nothing, but when it hit me again, I couldn't ignore the twist in my stomach, and my imagination. One thing lead to another, and soon I was paranoid again, counting hundreds of hit-men just waiting for the order to clear us out like rats.

"I have to ask… Does the name Ralph D'Amico ring any bells, Colonel Sir?" When the rest of Justice Forever was moving for the exit, I managed to catch the Colonel on the side. We were still in the meeting room, which had changed quite a bit, by now looking a little like a police briefing room in the middle of a training area, workshop, research station and wardrobe section. The Colonel was fixated on a mirror, as if trying to find something within his own eyes, and failing.

"Ralphie D'Amico? He's the newly appointed head of the five families of New York since 8 months ago." Colonel Stars and Stripes said flatly, not even looking at himself, but searching for something within himself, but still failing to find it. The name didn't seem to bother him at all. "He's elder brother to Frank D'Amico and uncle to Christopher D'Amico. If you think Frank's evil, Ralph is worse." The Colonel was calm, but I was almost shitting myself.

"Doesn't that, you know, bother you even slightly?" I asked, trying to be as calm as he was, but the idea of going back to the utter underground of New York crime was making me blue, black and blue. I remembered getting beaten up with fists, brass knuckles, bats and batons while being tied to a chair. If Ralph D'Amico's worse than that, I couldn't predict what would be coming for us, and how we could prepare to face such a force. Then my thoughts took a turn for Mindy. _Shit_. She would be utterly defenceless. Like a little girl. Because as far as little girls go, she was on the extreme end, and it wasn't on the Hit-Girl side of things.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Kick-Ass. He's an extreme case of agoraphobia. Been locked up in Riker's Island for close to two decades that he doesn't know how the world out there's like anymore." The Colonel replied, flat as usual, "And he won't be getting out anytime soon."

"But how on earth do you run 5 mafias from a prison?" It stank of something, a prelude to atrocities unknown to mankind. He sounded like the Joker to my Batman, or my Lex Luthor to my Superman, something even worse than that.

"There's only so much he could do." I found his eyes on the mirror. For the first time ever, I couldn't trust him, not fully. For the first time, I thought I saw what appears to be fear in his stout eyes. He did not answer my question. _How on earth do you run 5 mafias from a prison in the first place_?


	21. Hot Chocolate With Extra Marshmallows

**The Descent**

**Chapter 20: Hot Chocolate with Extra Marshmallows**

When Dave was gone, so was I. I used project work with Pete as a pretext again. 'Dad' hadn't figured it out yet, that I had been going out for other purposes. _A lie for a lie, 'Dad'_. Pete was useful. He promised to cover for me in case 'Dad' called.

I went back to the old apartment again. I needed time to think. It was the only way I knew how, to think. About… everything. _Who am I? I don't even know anymore_. Inside Hit-Girl's locker, I found her… my uniform was still there, smelling vaguely of an unwashed alley. It was a surprise that Dave didn't really notice – or maybe it was me being a girl and a kid, with my good keen sense of smell – _where did I get that_? I remember 'Dad' saying so.

Being in Hit-Girl's… my uniform again felt… comforting. It was a little hot, and everything, especially the boots were heavy, but it was comforting somehow. I remembered pain, bone-crunching pain, mine and not just mine. I remembered blood, gunshot, but… comforting. But… _who am I?_ I remembered blood, stabbing, shooting, but I hate hurting and killing. _Who am I?_ I found myself looking in the mirror, but seeing nothing. It felt like being a ghost. _Who am I?_

When I checked my weapons again, I found that I was short on a throwing knife and four bullets. It didn't feel like I needed a resupply – was that a word? I considered taking the egg-like things… grenades, but I remembered whiteness and deafening – no, no grenades. After I was done suiting, I put on my trenchcoat and left the apartment, took the bus as usual. I felt naked all of a sudden, and confused at the thought. I had no idea lacking one throwing knife and four bullets could feel that way. _Always plan ahead, cubby_. _Oops_. But I was already on the bus.

Stinging headache, excruciating. I was clutching my head throughout the bus trip. _Who am I? What is my name?_ Mandy Lizewski… no way, no… A nice-looking Chinese guy in spectacles even offered me Aspirin. _Trust strangers… only after a thorough background check, baby doll_. But I found myself reaching for his Aspirin, thanking him. I ate them like candy. He was checking out the hair on my purple wig poking out at the same time. He was hard to read, but I thought he found it weird.

No aftertaste. I was desperate, but the payoff was little to none. Headache… excruciating. Why did they all… LIE? LIE to me? The love felt so real, and now I… it still felt so real, yet I couldn't take it the same way anymore. The thought of them lying to me about everything made me angry, so, so very angry. I think the Chinese guy noticed. He looked a little afraid but it didn't matter. I alighted soon after he noticed.

I walked around the bad place, _fishing_. I went to a worse place than the last time. I didn't know how I knew, but I did. I saw pictures sprayed on the wall, needles on the floor, trash all over the sidewalk. I kept walking, and when I looked a little back, I thought I could see someone following me. _Caught a guppy_. I needed the distraction, I needed it badly.

I made a turn into an alley. Fishing out my mask, I put it on. This particular alley was wider – it was almost a square courtyard. It wasn't as dark as the last one either, with four or five lamps surrounding the alley-courtyard. Someone else was inside, someone about my size, her skin standing out, almost glow-in-the-dark. Her back was facing me, and when she turned around, I saw her eyes again – reddish, glowing strongly. She looked so much stronger than how she was, so much stronger. I ignored her, and threw off my trenchcoat – memories of boxers came around, and the way I did it reminded me of them.

"You know the next step, don't you?" Demoness went on. I waited for the man following me to show up. I continued ignoring her, "Don't you!?" But she was creeping closer again, closer to me. I could feel her icy hands on my shoulders.

"I'm not listening." I whispered to myself, repeating it again and again, but I could feel her on me. She wrapped her arms around my waist. I could feel her through my tights, icy cold. The way she held me made it difficult for me to move, and I could already see a shadow approaching from where I was. "Go away!" I tried shaking Demoness off, but she would not let go.

"No, girlie. Just because you're in purple and sporting a blade or two doesn't mean it's hunky dory." Demoness continued. Her mouth was pressed into my ear. She was deafening that way. I could feel it – the cold coming from her. I was shivering.

"Let go of me!" I screamed – I could already see the man trailing me, in a furry jacket, cargo pants and a snow cap. He pulled something out of his jacket, what appeared to be a handle, until he pressed a switch, and a blade came out. I elbowed Demoness and struggled out of her. Surprisingly, she released me.

"Who the fuck are you talking to, crazy kid?" A girl's voice, rough and mean, snarled from behind me. I turned around to see a lady with Mohawk hair dyed in pink, wearing tank top and jeans, boots. She had a knife too.

"No one you should care about." I said plainly as I looked around, seeing that the Demoness was nowhere to be seen, "What do you want?" I could feel the man behind me getting closer. Mohawk lady came closer as well. I thought about drawing my pistols.

"We'll make this as easy as ABC, crazy kid." Mohawk Lady said, pointing at me with her knife. I remembered the shape of her knife. It was a dagger, but I couldn't remember the last time I saw a dagger, "We want everything on you, right down to your undies."

"Oh, and we want you too." Jacketed Man behind me said. My hands began to shake, even if they were gloved. It was starting to get hot again, "See, we could use a new plaything. Our last one just broke." I wanted my guns out, but I knew I was too slow. I reached for my combat knife and throwing knives instead. They rushed at me.

I threw my throwing knife at the Mohawk Lady, but the thing landed on its flat side again, and even then, she shielded her face with her arm, and it bounced off her arm. It did nothing to stop her. I was shaking too much. I spun around, slashing behind me at Jacketed Man in a wide arc. I thought I saw red, and I did. I managed to cut him, but I was shaking too much to make a good cut. He backed away. But Mohawk Lady was still coming at me, and I felt her grabbing me from behind, an arm around my neck, the other with its hand wrapped tightly around the wrist of my knife-hand. I couldn't move. I was trapped!

I struggled against her, but she was too strong. The Jacketed Man was coming at me again. I tried kicking him, but I couldn't do it right – I couldn't even remember the right way to kick. After dodging my legs, I saw him thrusting his fist at me, at my stomach. I felt his fist there, and nearly fainted. "Drop the knife, little fuck!" Mohawk Lady threatened. I was terrified again. "Drop it before I break your arm!" I did what she told me. My hands were shaking too much anyway, and pain was spreading outward from where the Jacketed Man's fist connected with me – I didn't have the strength to carry it anymore.

She was behind Jacketed Man, staring at me with her red, glowing eyes, smiling at me. It felt like she was making fun of me. Our eyes connected. _Not doing very well, girlie_? The Mohawk Lady locked my arms behind my back. Another punch in the stomach. I felt like dying, I think I was crying. I could feel Demoness sighing. _Let me help you again. How about that, sissy_? NO! _No_? Another punch in the stomach. I couldn't stand anymore, but Mohawk Lady held me up.

"Enough rumble, Stevie darling." I heard Mohawk say even as I was falling in and out of consciousness, "Let's just take our doll here back to our apartment. Haven't done a kid before, but there's a first time for everything."

"No shit. She's not just any fuckin' kid either." Jacket said. I fought the darkness. _Done a kid? What does that-? They are going to torture me!_ Tried to think of a way to escape, couldn't. _Time's flying, little girlie. A stranglehold, baby doll, isn't shit if you know how to break it._ "Holy flippin' shit, she's Hit-Girl! You don't remember Hit-Girl?"

"Oh I remember that lil' cocksucker alright." I heard a female voice say – couldn't… remember who she was. Shaking so much. Then Daddy was there, and I was in a different place, a bright place. Daddy was holding me in the same armlock, but I tripped him up and forced him to release me. All was dark again. Struggled into position to break the stranglehold. Couldn't. _Daddy… _"But I bet this one here's a copy kitty." I could feel a mouth next to my ear, the rotten breath… a… a tongue. "Am I right, y' lil' boo hoo..?" She taunted.

_Last call, girlie!_ I thought about it. Hard to think with the slimy snake in my ear. _OKAY._ Couldn't think anymore. Couldn't control myself anymore. Somehow, I tripped Mohawk and landed elbow first into her hand. I heard a snap underneath, and a scream. Couldn't… not. Flipped myself to my feet. Pain everywhere. Couldn't scratch the itch. Jacketed Man swung his switchblade at me but I dodged fast, so quickly. _How am I doing this?_ I'm not doing it Demoness was I… She spun and got down low picking up combat knife, leaned back the blade flying past just inch away Jacketed Man swung his knife upwards towards my… Demoness' chin gave it to him stabbed him in the kidney before planting the knife in Mohawk's thigh she screamed screamed like a lil' bitch music to my ears the music! "Copy this, Pukebreath!" Felt my mouth move my voice saying but it wasn't something I would ever say it was almost a SWEAR.

Then I was in control again. I felt faint, light-headed. Exhausted, like running a thousand miles. I stumbled a bit on my feet, almost falling over, but I regained my balance. Jacketed Man and Mohawk Lady were both on the ground, wide-eyed, crying, whimpering, afraid. Terrified. For a second, I couldn't remember what happened, but it all came back to me in bits and pieces. Demoness was standing beside me. "T-thanks." I muttered to her, something I thought I would never do. But when I looked at the two on the floor I had second thoughts.

"Told you I'm your guardian angel. Now, next thing's next." Demoness said. I could feel her hands on my arm. She led me to pick up Jacketed Man's switchblade. I didn't like where it was going. "I need you to do this by yourself, darling, to prepare for what comes next."

"What do you want me to do?" I was almost choking on my words and breath. I really didn't like where this was going. Everything to do with the Demoness was bad one way or the other. She was always doing things girls like me… normal girls wouldn't do.

"I want you to cut Pukebreath's tongue out and kill them." Demoness instructed. I didn't like it. They were mean to me but… They weren't like the perverted big man, my first enemy. They were no longer killing me. They were no longer going to hurt me, or… do perverted things, "Oh, but kill them slow. You know how to do that, right? Oh, who am I kidding? Of course you don't, _but it'll come back to you!_" She came close to me to say the final bit. She loves coming close to me.

"NO!" I shouted at her. She wasn't a guardian angel anymore to me, she was a monster. I backed away from her, "It won't because I won't! No! Don't make me!" I could hear my two tormentors begging for mercy on the floor. They were previously big, naughty and powerful, but now they were pitiful.

"Silly girl." Demoness came closer again even as I backed away. I backed away some more. There was something jutting out of the floor behind me. One of my feet was caught on it, and I tripped and fell over backwards. Demoness looks a lot bigger, meaner and frightening from the floor, "You need it for what comes next!"

"God, Hit-Girl's gone koo-koo, we're dead, man!" I heard Jacketed Man screaming, almost bawling on the floor.

"What do you mean what comes next?" I said from the floor, from Demoness' feet.

"Dave? The truth? Have you been sleeping, girlie? He lied to you! About everything!" The Demoness roared at me. I crawled a bit further away, but she kept coming closer, "Your real dad, your real life, the real you!" It was then that I knew what Demoness wanted me to do, what she wanted me to do, and what… I wanted to do, what I wanted to do all along. Dave LIED to me. He loves me but he LIED to me. Family love – was this how it was supposed to be like? Because love hurts, even more than the 3 punches Jacketed Man gave me. My heart thumped fast, I could hear it inside my ears. The distraction was over – I was almost killed by the distraction, and Dave led me into it. And now it all was coming back, wrapping itself around me, drowning, burning, killing me. _Drowning!_

"I have a better idea." I said – couldn't help but to grit my teeth. I was angry again, at everything, at Dave. The pain, both from the love and the punches, still pulsing throughout my entire body. I wanted to let them out, let them all out. Couldn't be held in anymore.

"You're making me proud, girlie." Demoness allowed with a toothy smile, and pulled me up. I stood up. "Tell me about it."

**Meanwhile…**

Despite the fear in his eyes, Colonel Stars and Stripes would never back down. Now I was certain of that. I had become his close confidant of sorts. He promised another special operation soon, this time aiming at a bigger place – A mob outpost related to the D'Amico. He was really pressing the attack, as this time it wasn't just prostitution and paedophilia he was worried about anymore. The outpost was more of a gathering place for the enforcers of the Casillo family, one of the 5 families (including the D'Amico family, which was the strongest) ruled by Ralph. From the outpost, protection fees and extortion profits were gathered, robberies and hits were carried out. Drugs were also produced there. The Colonel was aiming to sever another money line. There would be 10 or more men inside, so he'd decided to risk putting everyone on the operation, all 18 of us.

With that in mind, the Colonel, Nightbitch and I spent the night patrolling with our 6 new members. They were a pleasure to be with – the thought of being in the same team as a frickin' samurai, fighting monk, an Asian ex-soldier and private investigator was priceless! We went a completely different route, the one Bravo Party would be taking. Even more flashes, more pictures and videos taken. But no crime. I struck up a conversation with Ronin:

"I've never really fired the rifle before, only a few precious times in the country-side." Ronin explained – I'd asked him about what skills he knew, the kind that he would be using as Ronin, "But it matters little, with my bullets left in the headquarters."

"But you know how to handle your sword, right?" It felt like an incessant question to ask, but you couldn't be more careful these days, especially with all those costumes.

"I'm a 5th Dan practitioner in Kendo." He said, "My father taught me for years in the art of Kenjitsu and Iajitsu, but I am more at home with the Shinai. Perhaps it is heaven's will." I couldn't exactly understand everything he said, but it sounded very optimistic.

Things were changing very quickly, and it wasn't just new members. Insectman had finally gotten a mask matching his costume, with a housefly for a face (which still reminded me of Spiderman). Everyone was getting trained. Nightbitch had a whip, cue the Indiana Jones reference, except she was a more burlesque Indiana Jones. Marty's getting contact lenses to replace those spectacles he wore out in the field. He's been saving up for a vest like mine, not to mention sourcing out for a bigger and more bulletproof shield. Not to mention, he's been getting good with fighting with his shield. Doctor Gravity's promising a new bat that would be an actual device, though I'm not getting my hopes up. We've been thinking of getting Todd in on the act.

We went down a street. It was getting late, nearing midnight. Our patrol duty was almost done, if the lack of observers was any indication. It was then that the lights on our street shorted out, the streetlamps, the apartments, all dark. The Colonel had his stick out, "Everyone hold!" I could hear fumbling, superheroes getting nervous. It wasn't like in the comics or movies. We weren't the ones turning off the lights. I could hear shoes hitting concrete in the distance. "Neonlight, do your thing!"

"Yes, sir. Gladly, sir." I could hear him pulling something out of a holster, and before I knew it, he was firing flares in opposite directions, to both ends of the street we were on. What we saw in the glow of the Neon-flares weren't good. We were surrounded by men wearing sports jerseys and rapper-style fashion. 20 plus, 30 plus of them, straight faced, all the more disconcerting. The street glowed orange with incoming battle. I had my batons out, but for once, they felt inadequate.

"Target-Lock, call Founding Party. Everyone in a circle!" The gang came in closer. Target-Lock was fumbling for his phone. He was obviously shitting his pants. We all were, it was only a matter of how much, and how much we could hold it back.

Someone in the Bloods crowd poked out, not very conspicuous but from his demeanor I could tell that he was the leader. "Colonel Stars and Stripes!" He called out, looking for blood.

"That would be me!" Despite our numerical disadvantage, the Colonel wasn't afraid – I could even guess at what he was thinking. 'I used to eat punks like these for breakfast', he boasted before, and he was referring to organised mobsters, evil dudes with guns, dead and living victims, people who don't mind severing your fingers one by one. The Colonel claimed to have buried dozens of them in his longer career with the Italian crime families, "Something you want to discuss, young man?" I could hear snickers and laughter among the Bloods. They were all armed with nailboards, pipes, sticks, the kind of bruisers you'd brutalise a man, but not kill him with. They were going to take us alive. What they had in mind after that could be everything and anything.

"You see, old man." The leader, someone in the late 20s, old for a street gangster, pulled out a cigarette. I could see the flame from his lighter setting fire to his cigarette. Cancer smoke floats to the sky, orange under the light of the flare, ominous, "We appreciate you helping us out with the Crips boys." He was calm, the look of a victor already set on his face.

"He who goes into battle seeking victory will be defeated. He who seeks victory before going into battle will have it." Ronin muttered as he held his Shinai close to his cheek, combat ready. I couldn't understand him – I was too busy thinking of a way to nail more than a guy before going down. His teeth was gritted, a little afraid. Only the Colonel and Monk was calm, at least based on what I saw on their faces.

"But you fucked my boys too, you old piece of dogmeat!" The leader hollered, agitated. His cigarette was on the floor, half-finished. "So I'll make this simple for you and your retards! Go back to your boring, meaningless lives or me and my boys'll introduce you to a world of hurt. How's that?"

"Colonel, Founding Group's coming." Target-Lock whispered and the Colonel leaned in to listen. Most of us could hear it, but definitely not the Bloods and their leader.

"What's the matter? Getting yellow as your springrolls? You should be!" Someone who appears to be the leader's lieutenant in the Bloods crowd came out picked up on Target-Lock, but he was misinterpreting things – and I was glad for that.

"Justice will prevail." The Colonel said sternly, audibly that even when he's not exactly shouting, the Bloods caught the message. They were always getting closer, like a tsunami of NBA jerseys and blings.

"JUSTICE FOREVER!" I screamed my lungs out like I did in our first operation, hoping to get Bravo riled up. My voice echoed across the length and breadth of the street. Beams of light were coming from the apartments, flashlights from the civilians we were trying to protect. There would soon be even more videos and photos, more word-of-mouth accounts that would sooner or later be exaggerated. The only worry I had was whether the heading would read 'Justice Forever no more!', or 'Justice Forever-more!'.

"JUSTICE FOREVER!" The rest of the team followed after a period of worrying silence, but at least it stopped the Bloods from laughing.

"Fuck ya'll! The world of hurt it is!" The Bloods leader roared, not with rage but for the satisfaction of it. I could see the smile on his face before his horde charged forward on both sides, becoming a giant blob-thing with hands waving sticks in the air, ready to break bones.

"I love you." Nightbitch managed to sneak in a little romance as the horde charged down. Feet were thundering, and so was my heart, everyone's. Three sticks were soon getting brought down on me, but I captured two with a cross-block. The last one was a horizontal swing, caught me in the Kevlar – I felt it bruising me, but it didn't hurt much. We were all taking wild and wide swings. Neonstyle was throwing colourful lightsticks into them. I could see a few bouncing off heads, confounding their owners with a little creative percussion.

Ronin swung his Shinai stylishly, blindingly fast, taking down one or two quickly. Monk was flying through the air, kicking two at a time and even counting out a third with his staff. Sergeant Crescent was good with his rattan shield and baton, a cross between me and Marty – He was matching two Bloods with them, sabre-rattling with sticks. We were fortunate that the Bloods did not sweep us off – they weren't that brave, though I'd say they were smart, what with our Martial Artists on the line-up.

I was soon getting over my first two Bloods, and Nightbitch her first. The Questioner took down one with a take-down, and even Target-Lock managed to trip one – not exactly super-heroic, but it'd do. Neonstyle Epilepsy was holding lightsticks like musical drumsticks, beating heads. Didn't last long though. The Colonel'd let Eisenhower go wild – and she knew exactly where to hit. The Colonel himself was a one-man killing machine (minus the lethal bit). I saw him jamming his axe handle into one guy, knocking him out, with a follow-up swing, almost martial artsy, into another guy's face. The crunch was sweet-sounding and horrendous at the same time.

But we were getting overwhelmed. The street gangsters we knocked down would very easily get replaced from the back, and the leader was smarter than I thought – more were coming in from the alleys surrounding us, like creatures from the depths of Mordor. The first sign of our impending doom came from Nightbitch getting a water pipe just above her abs – if only she wore protection like the Colonel advised. In the flash I was allowed to care for her, I saw a huge bruise forming there, and the payment was a hard stick to my forearm, forcing me to drop one of my green batons. I substituted it with a taser, but I could only take down one guy with a charge – no time to reload, and without a cartridge, it was only good for shocking gangsters back at the most dangerous range.

Target-Lock broke ranks, ran forward kamikaze style, perhaps sensing the inevitable. He was getting beaten up mercilessly as he was trying to push back the tides with arms and legs, trying to distract as many as possible by whatever means, shouting, screaming, engaging as many as possible – if only it wasn't so different from football… Even the Colonel was withdrawing, our circle getting smaller. I saw Ronin getting one over the head, but luckily he had his traditional helmet, which works just as well as a hard hat. Monk took it upon himself to save Target-Lock, clearing a path to him with his seemingly unending strikes from his perpetually moving staff. I saw him get to Target-Lock, and then even he was getting overwhelmed, and had to form an island alongside Target-Lock. I saw blood on the Colonel's face, and it was definitely his, as I saw a cut on it.

We were pushed closer and closer to each other, getting hit left and right. I took one to the knee, and would have fallen over had it not been Sergeant Crescent, who held me up. Ronin lost his Shinai at one point, which was when I saw desperation coming in. With one single motion, he pulled out his real Katana and made a wide cut into someone's chest. Whether the Bloods guy was dead or alive, I couldn't tell, as he was engulfed by even more Bloods gangsters, but Ronin's action made a gulf between him and the Bloods, the bona-fide Samurai shaking his sword at them, as if fending off a pack of rabid animals. The rest of us were almost huddled in what little small spot left for us to defend. Ronin had bought us some time, but it was hopeless in a sea of crime…

Monk and Target-Lock fought their way back to us, but it was small comfort, as they came back battered and bruised. The gulf Ronin had created was threatening to close. The Bloods leader came forward again, just a few feet away, the cringe-worthy smile of victory still on his face, "What the fuck is wrong with you people? You freaks really have such a hard-on to die? For no real reason?"

"Just give it up! Walk away! Leave your corny costumes!" It wasn't very usual for gangsters to give chances. It seemed as if he was afraid, afraid of something. Was it Ronin and his katana? It wasn't usual either for a gang leader to care about the welfare of his gang – as far as I know. What was stopping them from annihilating us?

"And let your kind rule and terrorize?" The Colonel replied smartly. Even though he had taken a few, he refused to let it show. I could see him stifling a cough, "You'll have to go through all of us first." Then the Colonel's phone rang. Message received. "All of us."

"JUSTICE FOREVER!" Came our call from a distance. It wasn't from any of us, as much as I wanted to make an epic last stand. It came from just down the street. I caught a glimpse past a few shoulders. The rest of Justice Forever was swooping down in delta formation. A few of them noticed where I was looking, and soon, heads were turning in the direction I was looking. We'd been doubled in number, and the gang we were dealing with didn't. From the unconscious (hopefully all unconscious) gangsters I could see, the three of us and Bravo Party was worth more than our number. The Ronin alone defeated close to 10, even if not all of them were completely down and out.

The Bloods dispersed. Some were sandwiched between us and Founding Party. The Founding Party were merely just stretching their legs compared to what we went through. I saw Marty ramming down one guy, who fell over, instantly out of the game. Insectman was in the air, inevitable Spider-man comparison aside, he beat down 2 others with his police batons and shocked another. All-Seeing Eye merely stuck out a leg at one of those who tried to slip past and handcuffed the gangster while he was down. I saw Hacksaw tackle another. All in all, they captured about 8. The Bloods'd abandoned their own brothers, those either too weak or unconscious to run. There was police siren from the opposite end from our reinforcement. Someone must have called the police, and it would mean more of them captured, hopefully the leader.

By the end of it, over 20 of the Bloods were detained. The police had to send a whole convoy over. It was only at the end of the day that I realised what had softened the Bloods leader's resolve. They didn't bring guns in the first place because killing one of us meant bringing the entire city down on their heads. The Colonel's contacts in the NYPD helped too.

**Later…**

I came home a little late, half past one at midnight. The first thing I did was to go up to Mindy's room, to check on her, but there was no light underneath her door. When I tried to open it, I found it unlocked. Swinging it open lightly, I strained my eyes, looked at her bed – sure enough, she was there, already asleep. With her asleep, I could only wait until morning if she had forgiven me. Yet I wanted so much to make it up to her – didn't matter who was wrong. Crossing the room, I got up to the chair, stopped when she tossed and turned a little, and sat beside her, and thought about how lucky I was to have Mindy as a sister. I got to take responsibility for my mistakes, to try to fix things. We did have some fun times together, some happy memories, and the bad times were a part of the experience.

I fell asleep thinking about all that, going back in time, right to the first day. I got stuck somewhere around the time we fell asleep together in the diner.

**The Next Day…**

"Dave." Someone said my name, shaking me awake. I opened my eyes – it was blurry. I couldn't see a thing. I tried to feel for my spectacles, and sure enough, it wasn't on my face. It must have fallen off while I was snoozing on the chair beside Mindy, "Dave, wake up. I made breakfast again." She slipped on my spectacles for me lovingly. It was sweet of her. I saw her face clearly – before, it looked like a grey alien, and I was a little worried (at least as much as I could while I was just awake) that she might still be upset, but she was clearly smiling.

"What's the occasion?" I was surprised at her sudden change of mood (at least from my perspective). We hugged.

"Nothing, I'm just… happy today!" Mindy replied before turning and walking out of her room. She was in her only set of shirt and jeans, "I'm making pancakes and a little… surprise." She said mysteriously as I was only beginning to stand up, which was when I was reminded of yesterday. I could feel the bruises all over me, in my side, on my knee, on my forearm, my head. There were more than I could remember. There was even a cut on my thigh that I couldn't remember where I got from.

After brushing my teeth and taking a quick bath, I went down, and sure enough, she was setting down pancakes, this time perfectly done. Dad was already there, praising Mindy for everything. My adopted sister just smiled at him and said nothing. The pancakes were done, but she was making something else. There were three cups on the counter. They were already there, washed and prepared. She must have woken up a little earlier than usual. She started pouring something brown from a kettle in – coffee? Taking a packet of something from the top counter, she poured that in as well. The label wasn't facing me, so I couldn't tell what it was.

"Hot chocolate. With extra marshmallows." She announced, smiling. I tried my best to smile back, but I had to force it. It was a beverage from her past – coincidence or her remembering things?

"Nice, getting your creativity going, pal?" Dad praised again, and took a sip from it, then a gulp, "It's really good! Hmm." Following Dad, I started drinking her masterpiece while eating her pancakes at the same time as well, but I couldn't stop thinking about how it came from her past. Yet, it wasn't too worrying, as many things had come from her forgotten past without any ill effects.

"You know, I've been thinking." It came to me all of a sudden, a way to make it up to her, "A sneak peek of _Winnie the Pooh's_ premiering today. You wanna catch it? Just the two of us, no Todd and Marty." I yawned – it was a tough day yesterday.

"That'd be nice." Mindy smiled sweetly, a total reverse from how she was yesterday. I stretched my muscles before taking a few more bites out of my pancake, and drank a few more gulps of Mindy's Hot Chocolate With Extra Marshmallows. I remembered it quite well. I used to have it all the time at Marcus' place before Mindy… flipped. I stretched my muscles again – they were feeling especially lethargic, in addition to being sore. I almost didn't want to move anymore. I yawned again.

A loud bang and glass breaking. I looked around, my eyes a little blurry. Dad's face was in his pancake. He had fallen asleep for some reason. I couldn't think straight why, but sluggishly enough… I suspected an aneurysm for some reason, "Dad? Dad!" Mindy was onto him quickly, leaning Dad back on his chair. I couldn't move from mine for some reason. I felt exhausted, felt like sleeping.

"Don't worry, Dave. Dad's fine." Mindy said as she walked up beside me. Funny – she would always call Dad Daddy. I felt especially sleepy, which was when I realised what was going on.

With all my strength, I tried to get out of my chair. I wanted to run, but I fell off my chair instead. I could only crawl away with Mindy just behind me. I leaned back on the kitchen counter. Mindy'd spiked my chocolate, which meant… that…

She hugged me. "Shh… Hey… Shh…" Ironic… I remembered that from… somewhere… "It's okay. Dave, don't fight it." I tried to push her… away, but my arms weren't… responding very well. "There's no point, Dave. Shh… Don't fight…" Don't… Trust her.

"W- Why?" I could… barely speak. I saw… Mindy's… face for the… last time. She couldn't… meet… my… my eyes. Something about… her… wrong.

Darkness.


	22. When Things Change

**The Descent**

**Chapter 21: When Things Change**

"-Can't do that!" I heard someone shouting. I opened my eyes, and this time, my spectacles was still on my face. For a moment, my vision was swimming. It was almost like being underwater. I felt dizzy, a little nauseas. I almost vomited, "No! I won't!" Things were coming into focus, and things were starting to look familiar. I knew the table, but there was supposed to be… something on it. "You said you'd listen to me!" It was Mandy, but I wasn't sure who she was talking to – I couldn't hear the other person talking.

I remembered. There was supposed to be an Apple desktop computer on the table. I wasn't at home anymore. Things were beginning to come back to me. I was drugged. Mindy's Hot Chocolate With Extra Marshmallows. As it turns out, there was a little extra something else as well. I looked up, and saw my worse fear confirmed and materialised before me. It was Mindy in her Hit-Girl costume. _How did she find out_? Mindy turned to regard me, but it wasn't just her regarding me. The Hit-Girl costume was finally filled again – something I had been secretly wishing, just that it happened in an unexpected way.

I was seated on a chair. My limbs felt numb. I tried to move them, but I couldn't, so I looked at them. Ropes. I was tied to the fucking chair! "Dave. You're finally awake." She said. She was a lot more serious than how she was in the morning. Not good. Not good at all, not with Mindy. She got up to me, next to me, grabbed a chair to put a foot on it, leaning her body forward on a raised knee, her masked face closer to mine.

"Mandy, what are you doing!?" I hollered. Couldn't help it. A lot of things were going through my head: What the hell was she doing, thinking and what does she want? What the hell will she do to me? "Mandy, sis… Let me go." I tried struggling against my restraints again, but they were too tightly bound that I couldn't even move. And they weren't just twine either – she had used a combination of materials, near-impossible to break even with improvised tool.

"We both know that I'm not your sister." She said, her voice void of any emotions, her eyes almost glazed as they searched me. She was beginning to terrify me. I looked around – and could only conclude that I was safehouse F, but how did she find this place out? Did she remember it?

"Mandy, please, you know that isn't true." I kept up with the lie. I knew I couldn't yield to her no matter what – already, I was beginning to doubt her sanity for kidnapping me. Not to mention, I was beginning to put the pieces together. She looked like she was talking to herself, and that wasn't normal behaviour, "Mandy, I know I haven't been spending a lot of time with-"

"Shut up!" She shrieked at me. I zipped up, half from the shock of her sudden outburst and half because of her, "SHUT UP!" She looked over her own shoulder, and I had a feeling that the second shut up wasn't for me, "Let me talk to Dave alone!" Mindy clutched her head. I could imagine a cross-vein on her head, funny in normal circumstances, pants-shitting in this case.

"Stop calling me Mandy!" Mindy screamed. If I won't die by her hands, it felt like I would die from a heart attack or hyperventilation, "You've been lying to me, Dave! You LIED to me! About everything!"

"Ma-" I wanted to call her Mandy again, but thought better of it – it was easier to occur to that when I saw her eyes shift back to mine angrily. I decided to switch to something else without revealing too much, "Sis, please, why would I do that!"

"There! There you go again!" Mindy shouted, this time her voice cracking up. I could see her 8-figure mask getting wet, "Do you know how much that hurts!? How much it hurts when I found out!? About everything!? You said you love me!"

"Mandy, I do, I-" The name slipped again, and…

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Mindy screamed, and I swore to myself that I wouldn't make that mistake again. I found out after that that I was shaking, shaking hard, but my tough restraints kept me on the chair, kept me from moving even an inch off the seat at all. She took me by the collar, her hands stronger than I remembered, "Now let's start with the basics. What's my name?" It became all of a sudden very tempting to just submit to her whims, but I remembered what I had to do. Not to mention, Mindy was already starting to look a little unhinged…

"Mandy Lizewski!" I spat at her defiantly, breaking the oath I swore to myself never to say that name again. She slammed my back to the chair after hearing it. She'd developed an allergy to it. She clutched her head with both her hands, whispering things to herself which I couldn't hear. And just when I least expected it, she spun around and gave me the hardest slap of my life. My heart felt missing. Probably jumped from New York to Beijing, China, "Your name is Mandy Lizewski!"

She didn't hear me the second time. Instead, she was stomping away, her footsteps louder with her boots on. She stomped away into the storeroom, where all the weapons and gear were. Not good, not good at all! I could hear things getting thrown about, getting kicked, and slammed. Mindy was killing me, killing me from the inside out. She came out with a toolbox, and immediately I knew what it meant, what she was going to do to me.

My adopted sister slammed it down on the table before me. I jumped – by now, I was jumping at everything. She opened it roughly, and poured all the contents out of the table right in front of me for a full view, front row centre of the theatre. I saw pliers, and imagined her plucking out my fingernails one by one, breaking my fingers section by section, and each finger had three bones and three joints each. I saw a hacksaw, and imagined her cutting into me excruciatingly slow, the blade cutting through skin and flesh, taking its time due to its dull nature, going in and coming out of contact of the wound at times. I was whimpering, crying and screaming like a baby or madman myself by this time. "MANDY! WHAT THE FUCK MAN!" There was even a fucking cleaver in there! I would be lucky if she would just be hacking off my toes. "MANDY! NO! PLEASE!"

There were many other things inside her little toy box. Nail files, garden shears, knives, hammers, screwdrivers, all sorts of table cutleries, a small looking gun, and the weirdest being a box of cigarettes, a flask of whiskey and a packet containing some white powder – cocaine? "MANDY!"

But she paid no attention to me. Instead, she was busy arranging the tools on the table, and even added her combat knife to the collection. When she was done, she looked at me again, smiling, "What did you say my name was?"

"Look, look, look, please! Alright!" I said, trying to find a way out, trying to catch her attention. I felt like a rat in a maze, an extremely diabolical one filled with sadistic traps complete with baits, with invisible teleporters thrown in to lead me right back to the centre. Sure enough, she looked at me with anticipation, "Look, sis, I- I've been protecting you! You can't know it! You can't know your real name! Please!" I prayed for a change in her eyes, and my prayer was answered. She started looking around, as if finding her lines from everywhere. I prayed next for her to release me, for this to be over.

Instead, she grabbed the gun from the table, from her selection of torture instruments. From the opposite end of the table I was behind, she went around it, impulsive and rash, at one point knocking the table a bit, shaking the instruments on it. Before I knew it, she was jamming it into one of my eyes, which was thankfully closed. I felt like hyperventilating. With her other hand, she was pulling my hair, but she withdrew after a while and pointed it at my thigh instead, making pretty sure that I could see the gun clearly, which was shaking violently. Mindy was still subconsciously rejecting violence, not that it was stopping her. "At least you weren't lying. That's a good start. But I'm not interested – I want! My real name!" A rock and a hard place. I imagined what would happen if I started going along with everything Mindy said, and I imagined her firing the gun into my leg, the bullet ripping through skin, flesh, and potentially hitting an artery there. I wept at the dilemma, not that the flow of tears ever stopped.

"Do what you have to, Mandy." I finally decided, and tilted my head down, closing my eyes hard, waiting for the bullet to come, "I'm not lying when I said I love you." I listened at the sudden silence, at the gun shaking in Mindy's unsteady hands. I could hear her trigger finger sliding away from the guard and into the concave side of the trigger. She fired.

But it was empty. A loud CLICK! was issued instead of a blast. My heart leapt from Beijing, China, back to New York again. The bang that happened was Mindy throwing the pistol at a wall. "Fine." She said nonchalantly. Grabbing the chair, she repositioned it on the opposite side of the table I'm sitting at. She sat down and put her legs up on the table, her skirt flipping the other way, covering her Hit-Girl utility belt. I didn't have long to wonder what she was up to as she snatched the pack of cigarettes from the table.

"Mandy, no." I stared at the pack of cigarettes in horror with what she was about to do in mind, and it wasn't a nice thought. She rolled her eyes at me, feigning ignorance, and pulled out a cigarette, rested the pack on her belly and lighted it with a lighter from her utility belt, "Mandy!"

"I think you're mistaking me for someone else." She continued feigning ignorance. I felt defeated when she put it to her mouth and sucked. She seemed to know what she was doing, but betrayed that with a cough. Regardless, she continued and ignored my objections, eventually getting a hang of it. "Hmm. This is actually pretty good." She taunted me, threw in a smile just to get me going even more, "Better than your pancakes."

"Mandy, please, I'm trying to protect you." I pleaded, but it felt futile. She was already halfway through her cigarette, learning surprisingly fast how to smoke like a regular.

"So protect me, Dave." She just said after puffing out another cloud of smoke, waving her cigarette, the smoke dancing with it, shrugging her shoulders at me. _Damn it don't you do that!_ I imagined minutes of her lifespan slipping away, her lungs and mind slowly getting corrupted. I stubbornly held on. It was either that or the asylum, another year of crazy experimental treatments. The half-stick of cigarette burnt out eventually to the bud. I couldn't believe that it was Mindy smoking through a whole cigarette.

"We had fun together. You were happy, Mandy." I tried my luck again. At least she wasn't shouting at me for calling her Mandy again. I thought I caught her attention – the way she stared at me. But it lasted only for a moment, then she was back to drawing another cigarette, "Damn it, Mandy!" She knew exactly what button to press, which buttons to get me going. She was no longer purely Mandy anymore. I could only wonder at how long she'd known about her past all along. She lighted her second cigarette and took another quick puff. She was starting to look high as she chuckled a bit as the smoke cleared away, the way she smiled vacantly at me.

"Well, I'm having fun now, aren't I? This is addictive, Dave! I think I'm going to do this every day!" She prodded at me again. I struggled at my restraints to no avail. I watched her burn through that cigarette, up to the halfway mark again. She knew what buttons to press, and she'd pressed my crying button hard. Then there was the bottle of whiskey she procured from somewhere. Getting off her chair, she hoisted herself up on the table, sitting close to me on the same side. She rested her right foot on my thigh, and let her left dangle. Would have been fine had we been hanging out. But this time she was pressing the bottle of whiskey close to my face, "I bet this is fun too."

"Mandy… Please… Just…" She had broken me, but I couldn't, I just couldn't. She opened the cap, and after another puff of smoke, she took a swig from it, downed quite a gulp. A look of disgust on her face, but like the cigarette she smoked, I had no hope that she would stop.

"Wrong answer, Dave." She said as she took another gulp after another suck of her cigarette. She looked like she was starting to get carried away. The bottle started three quarters full. After another gulp, there was half left. I could smell smoke and alcohol off of her. Somewhere around there, she started crying, or weeping. The alcohol looked like it was starting to have an effect on her, loosening her up. On one hand, I was hoping that it would make her realise her mistakes, but on the other hand, she was 11 and she was drinking, "Why, Dave? Why did you do this to me?" She took another swig again, and jabbed at my brother's instinct.

Mindy looked like she was spinning. She jumped off the table, nearly lost her balance, but kept it just fine. She threw herself at me and hugged me. She looked almost drunk – there was still some clarity in her eyes. She smelt like a middle-aged good-for-nothing, something I had been trying to stir her 180 degrees away from, whether I knew it actively or not. "I love you, Dave. Why won't you love me back?"

"Won't you believe me anymore, Mandy?" This time, I was considering every single word. I tried my luck again, this time putting my eggs all in one basket. All the other baskets were incinerated by Mindy anyway, "I've always got your back, don't I? Remember that time when those boys were extorting from you? Remember that time when we were in the diner together? We fell asleep there?"

For once, she stared at me with those cute, needy eyes, the kind you'd expect from a kid. For once, I thought I'd gotten her back. Another bang cleared me from those illusions. Mindy threw her bottle of whiskey at the wall, following her gun. At least she won't be drinking anymore, assuming there weren't any more bottles of whiskey hiding in storage. "SO WHY STOP THERE!?" She roared at me out of the blue – something I'd expect from a drunk, but still not from Mindy, even a half-drunken Mindy. But she calmed down quickly, but too slow to stop me from shaking and nearly peeing my pants.

Then she chuckled playfully, and hopped onto my lap. She was heavier than I thought. She'd been putting on some muscle mass. She caressed my cheek with the back of her hand. She was going places I did not think she would go. I struggled hard against my restraints. I could feel one strand breaking on my left side, but it was one out of hundreds of strands of rope. "You said you love me, right?" The lustful smile on her face was unforgettable, soul-rending. The ultimate proof of my failure. Her hands were set on my skull. I felt her lips on my neck, her alcoholic breath. Goosebumps rising.

"Mandy… You wouldn't…" I thought I would faint as her lips played with my neck, burning me, branding me with an invisible mark that would never go away. The only hope I had was that it was all just a nightmare, and I would soon wake up by fainting.

"You sure?" She withdrew her lips from my neck, and pressed her face close to mine, our lips barely touching. I leaned back as far as I could. She squeezed my chin, almost as if she wanted to force a French kiss on me. She played with my hair. I shivered, "I wonder. What would your new girlfriend think when she hears about you kissing your own little sister?" I refused to move, tried to force my mouth completely closed. I refused to even speak.

Thankfully, she didn't take her precocious sexuality any further than that. She hopped off my lap, looking a little unstable, and disgusted at herself – I bet even she wouldn't go there even in her raving mad, half-drunken state. Quietly, she floated over to her chair again and sat down, her head in her hands, stressed and scarred in her own way. Admittedly, she'd managed to tease her real name right up to the tip of my tongue. It took all my will to stop it from coming out. Had she actually done something to me that way…

"Fine. Have it your way, brother dear." She pushed back her chair before sitting up, lady-like, calm. She grabbed her combat knife, underhanded. It was like watching a tidal wave coming at me, unable to do anything, "Since this is how you want to play. Tell me my name or I'll take myself apart! Piece by piece!" Words that wouldn't have come out of her mouth just a week ago. She'd changed too fast, too fast for me to handle. I wasn't hurt physically in any way, but it felt even worse than getting tied up and beaten up by D'Amico's henchmen. I was still holding it at the tip of my tongue, stubbornly.

"Mandy!" And she did it, she actually did it. She brought her own knife down on her left forearm. It went quite deep. Mindy gasped, and laughed bitterly. I stared wide-eyed at her. I still couldn't believe she stabbed herself. It topped everything else in every category.

"That's how much it hurts, Dave." She whispered in a pained voice to me, her face contorted in pain, "Each lie, a knife." She pulled it out with gritted teeth. Blood spilled through her purple tights. Her knife-hand was shaking wildly, both subconsciously and from pain. She dropped the bloody combat knife, almost involuntarily, almost as if she was shocked by her own actions, "Still not talking, Dave?" She grabbed the cleaver. She was getting carried away, an insane smile on her face. My heart skipped a beat. "Guess how many fingers do I have?" She held out her fingers at me. I didn't answer. My mouth felt like exploding. I could feel my lips taking a life of their own, trembling. She pulled her left glove off, revealing her soft, young fingers. Pink nail-polish and a Hello Kitty ring, bought by Dad recently. "Here's a hint." She snarled harshly, her face displaying a kind of severity I could never imagine on a kid, "I'm about to have less than 10!" Putting her naked left hand down on the table like a slab of meat, she lifted the cleaver up, and was about to bring it down when I finally spilled.

"It's Mindy!" I finally spilled. She stopped, thank God, "Mindy Macready! Just please, no more! Please, just stop, don't do it, please!" She'd pressed all the buttons in me again. I was pathetic, crying and whimpering, bawling like a baby. My pants became wet at some point. I was trembling like a new-born calf.

From here on, Mindy played me like a computer. I was little more than a Hit-Girl wikipedia, dispensing information to her. Whatever she wanted to hear, I gave it to her, especially when I saw her cleaver twitch whenever I paused to take a breath. Father's name? Damon Macready. Have we met before? Yes, yes, Mindy, just please don't. Have you met my daddy? Yes, now please, just put down the knife… It was only when I'd fed her with enough information that she gave the cleaver a rest, and set it down.

Mindy continued grilling me for hours, and I was cooking in my own urine. By the time she was done, she probably knew more about what I knew of her than myself. The only thing I managed to hide was my involvement with her father's death, the only thing I knew for sure that would drive her over the edge, over to becoming Demoness. I was fortunate that she didn't venture into the Demoness territory in her interrogation. She was more concerned with her memories before that crazy shit happened.

It was almost noon when she cut me free. My limbs hurt worse when the ropes were off. I could barely even stand up. Mindy pushed me back on the chair when I tried to. "No, Dave. You should rest." She was back to being my caring little sister again. Somehow, it didn't even seem to bother her that she held me captive and tortured me for hours. "You big baby! You wet your own pants! I'll try to find some clothes for you. You should shower soon, you're stinking up the whole place, Dave."

I didn't talk to her, or so much as look at her. I didn't feel like doing it. I didn't want to. I didn't dare. Everything was gone, everything had changed. I did as I was told. All I wanted to do was to get home and curl up in my own bed.

After I could feel my legs again, I went to the bathroom and showered there. In the meantime, Mindy had changed back into her shirt and jeans, and was cleaning up the place. She found me a new pair of pants. It belonged to her father. It was a little big, so I had to fold it up.

She took me back home by ordering a cab. I couldn't remember everything especially well. I was in a daze. I still couldn't believe what had transpired in the last few hours, how I was treated, how I was humiliated, how she threatened me in the worst way possible – by using herself. I would have actually preferred her using the conventional way of torture. I still couldn't believe everything. She had to lead me into the house by hand, because I simply couldn't care about anything anymore. She had to lead me back to my room, sit me down on my bed. I remember her speaking to dad, probably finding an excuse for why we disappeared, but I couldn't care anymore.

When I was sitting on my bed, she turned to leave, but wouldn't open the door. She turned around again, her face back to being the Mindy I knew, the one named Mandy, "Dave…" She came back to my side, "Dave, I'm sorry. I needed to know, to know about everything." She said, but I didn't really listen. I heard her, but I didn't really listen. I was still trying to process what had happened previously. She sat down beside me, held my hand. It brought me around a bit. All I saw was the bandage on her left arm, where she stabbed herself pretty seriously. SELF-HARM, "Dave, I'm sorry… Won't you forgive me?"

I tore myself away from her, walked to the other side of the room, looked out of the window. I needed to get away, to get away from it all, focus on something else. Mindy followed me doggedly, "Dave, I need you. Didn't you say that... there will always be good times and bad times?"

I turned around and delivered a hard slap on her face. I must have snapped. Somehow, it felt good, it felt great. The look on her face was one more of stunned than anything. Then I slapped her again, and again. The third one knocked her off her feet. "GET OUT!" She scrambled away, opened my door and slammed it shut. I could hear her footsteps receding away, but I didn't care. I needed something else to focus on, something to take me away from what transpired before…

**Meanwhile…**

I ran into my room and slammed the door shut, as hard as I could. Dave was hurting me! Really hurting me! _I can't believe it!_ When I looked at the mirror, I saw blood on my lips. I must have bitten myself when he slapped me the second or third time. He wasn't holding back at all. I dabbed my lips with a tissue paper.

I had homework to do. I needed to distract myself from everything I'd learnt, from what transpired before. I sat down on my desk. But I couldn't get what Dave did to me out of my mind. He wouldn't understand – he wouldn't forgive me. He wouldn't even talk to me anymore. It was all frustrating – I was frustrated at everything. Angry. Dave wouldn't even talk to me anymore, wouldn't even look at me. Things started flying, because I swept everything off my desk. Pencils, pen, rubber, all scattering all over the place. My books, my homework flapping their wings like birds. I threw things about because it felt good. Dave wouldn't talk to me – this was the only way I could feel good. I slammed my fists down on the table.


	23. Aftermath

**The Descent**

**Chapter 22: Aftermath**

"Today on the WNRD Superhero Feature." An unseen narrator said, his voice hammy. Two logos flashed by, the WNRD then followed by a relief of some Superman look-alike. Lights and vague shapes flew about, "A boy saved from drowning by the unlikeliest of costumed heroes." A shivering boy covered in sludge appeared, wrapped in multiple towels by paramedics.

"A string of mysterious deaths – A new breed of superheroes, or… Supervillains?" This one interested me vaguely. It showed two crime scenes in two alleys, and the talking head of a detective investigating the sites. The talk of supervillains wasn't as old as superheroes. This particular news headline attracted me.

"Another gang take-down on Bastille Street." A familiar sight greeted me. Dozens of gangsters on the road with numerous police officers taking over from a whole squad of costumed vigilantes.

"And a special report on the Real Life Superhero movement." The unseen narrator finally ended with some interesting looking charts that were interesting only because of the superhero words written all over them. "Now on the WNRD Superhero Feature, James Steel and Vivian Lane."

I tried my best not to think about Mindy, kept my eyes on the television instead. The first piece of superhero news was about another group of superheroes. More were forming every week. We were just one of them, the one that happened to be the first, and so we were used as the role model. This particular group was different though – for one thing, they consisted mainly of the homeless, the destitute and hobos_. What do I do with you, Mindy?_ The leader was a wrinkled but middle-aged man who wore a tattered brown jacket and a tattered strip of mask likely cut out from an old pair of shirt. He calls himself The Refuse, not a very flattering name, but I'm sure it had its story.

They ran on no budget, and depended on the charity of the community. They called themselves the Street Underrats, for obvious reasons, but they saved a curious boy who nearly drowned in the sewers while exploring. They had no headquarters, but they did have a few secret locations where they stashed the little supplies they had. They would normally patrol the streets, and even the sewers, the underground. _Mindy, I don't want to do it… Send you back there again…_ Their main exploits were mainly scouting for illegal activities for the police, acting as contacts, as well as rescue, which they just did. After seeing them on TV, and hearing a summary of their exploits, I knew I had to talk to Colonel Stars and Stripes about forming an alliance with The Refuse and his Street Underrats.

The next bit of news involves three dead punks in alleys in the space of a few days. The first dead man was a serial rapist, and the only witness to the killing was a hooker, and she had been in a coma from head injuries ever since. _Why did you have to torture me that way?_ The other two stiffs were a man and woman, both thieves, robbers and rapists whose MOs reportedly involves the most sadistic tortures possible. They were linked to the murder of a college student and even a cop. The only evidence found on the scenes was a throwing knife. I thought the knife looked familiar, but I was secretly glad that the victims were all criminals, and they seemed to belong to the worse kind.

Then we appeared on the small screen, Justice Forever. Footages of us fighting was caught on camera, the angle largely from above, in the apartments. Only a single angle was street level. It was only from the top that the grand scale of the fight itself could fully appreciated. There were only 9 of us, with gangsters swarming around us, quickly surrounding us, a sea of jerseys pushing against costumes. I saw myself bringing down my batons on one or two, everyone else fighting the way I remembered. It was a strange experience still, watching what happened to you from someone else's point of view. _Why did you have to force my hand like that, Mindy?_ At the end of the news, I found out that the gang's leader and his lieutenant was arrested, along with more than half their gang, and we did most of the arrests. But I had to hand it to the police though – they did capture the leaders, after all, something that was mainly the domain of superheroes, the way… Mindy and I took out Frank D'Amico, the way… Mindy took out Chris D'Amico in her Demoness alter-ego.

I pushed my thoughts of Mindy away. It was getting difficult. I followed the numbers and charts that accompanied the next superhero news feature. Apparently there was a larger superhero group out there, but their numbers were swollen by non-superheroes. It was the Real Life Superhero Movement, which began in the 90s, but consisted then of superheroes who were largely off the radar, non-crimefighters (or at least crimefighting was out of their league) sort of superheroes. Today, it'd grown bigger, and they'd declared themselves the 'union' of Superheroes whose responsibility was to safeguard the interests of Superheroes, and even to fund them. Was Colonel Stars and Stripes ever in contact with them?

**Meanwhile…**

After turning my room upside-down, I couldn't think of doing anything else but to lie down in bed. I couldn't take my eyes off the ceiling. I was starting to count the cracks on it, and as I was watching the ceiling, I was remembering things. It was so much easier now that Dave told me everything. I watched the ceiling like it was the silver screen in a movie theatre. I could see my life unfolding on the ceiling.

I saw my real Daddy training me, how we exercised together, doing push-ups, sit-ups, crunches, bridges, pull-ups, muscle group exercises, jogging together, jumping, vaulting, doing stunts, doing manuevers, shooting pistols, rifles, beating dummies, how he encouraged me, how he scolded me. How I loved him, how I hated him. How he prepared my breakfast, lunch and dinner and taught me how to do it. Protein milkshakes, meat slurpees, the exact right fruits, the right vegetables, the healthiest fishes all in the name of fighting crime, and taking down… D'Amico. I still could not understand what a D'Amico was, or a D'Amico Tower. I could only imagine a huge pillar that Daddy and I would push together, trying to topple it.

I saw my earliest days out in the streets, fighting crime. I remembered stuffing a pistol into a Teddy Bear, shooting a child abductor in the eyes after he picked me up. It was fun and cool at first, but it made me cry on the way home – it was the blood, the death, the corpse, the idea of killing and taking away a life. I was trained, but I was still a kid. Daddy was patient and kind to me. He didn't scold me then. I remembered going into a crack den with nothing but a pen knife. I couldn't remember how I got out of that, at least not yet. I remembered 'fishing' with Daddy, the both of us doing what I was doing alone these days, baiting and then taking down bad people. It was both training and routine janitorial duty.

I saw how I was like before I lost everything to grief (Dave said I was so depressed after Daddy died that my mind just dumped everything one day). I was a hotshot who knew the solution to every problem, especially ones involving gangsters and crimes, especially when the solution involves tactics, guns and swift justice. I swore freely and enjoyed it. Daddy, my real Daddy, didn't seem to mind one bit. He swore with me all the time. I was free like a bird, free to do anything I want, with only Daddy holding me back, guiding him with his strong but gentle hands. I was… I AM Mindy Macready, and Hit-Girl.

Yet I want to be with Dave, I want him so much to understand me, to forgive me. Part of me believed what I did was right, that he was fine and unhurt, yet I knew I've hurt him badly. The other part of me was putting me down, reminding me that pain didn't have to be a gunshot wound or a knife cut, or a kick in the face. _Shouldn't you know better by now, Mandy-Mindy Macready? Shouldn't you of all people know this, after the lies that hurt you so bad?_ My conscious nagged at me. Part of me couldn't believe how things flew by like a rocket-propelled grenade. Just a month ago, I was just a girl, and I loved – genuinely loved shopping and teddy bears. And now I got what I wanted, I forced the truth out of Dave. Now I wanted to go back to that time, to just forget everything and go back to being that little girl again. I wanted to be Mandy Lizewski again.

_Who am I?_ I knew everything now, and yet I knew nothing at all. I found out everything to do with how I was like, and yet I didn't – couldn't go back to how I was. I still hated the way people swore. It sounded bad, and I felt dirty myself after finding out how I was like. _Who am I? Who am I?_ What have I done? The movie projected on the ceiling stopped as hot beads of tears welled up and rolled down my face. Mindy wouldn't have cried like this, not even when her Daddy just died. _Who am I? Who am I? Who am… I? Who…_

"My name is… Mindy… Macready." I struggled to say my name. It didn't come as readily from my mind somehow. It was bright, too bright to be normal. Then I realised that there was a lamp above me, and I couldn't move my head. I couldn't move my arms and legs!

"You are mistaken, child." A voice corrected me from somewhere I couldn't see. I looked around with my eyes, moved the little I could my head. I saw an aging man from the corner of my eyes. Interrogation. The word occurred to me.

" My name is… Mindy." I repeated. I was trying to free myself, but I couldn't. All my toys were taken away from me, not just whatever I had scrounged up around the hospital, but the ones in my head – The doctor's been fucking with my head! "My name is Mindy! Mindy Macready!"

"You are mistaken, child." The voice repeated. I saw something glinted around the corner, coming in with another man, this one in white. An orderly, "you're very ill, sweet little girl. I'm going to give you an injection for your… disorder. You'll remember yourself. You have my promise that I will help you with that, yeah? Good."

"Keep that shit away from me!" I shouted, and struggled harder against my restraints, hoping that they would tear, so that I could jam that needle into the doctor's eye since he liked it so much, "I'll fucking carve you up!" The needle, glinting as if it was glaring at me, came closer, just inches away from my arm! "No! I'll fucking-! No! Paul, please!" It went inside. Pain. I saw the plunger getting depressed, and my arm grew cold and distant, no longer my own. I could feel the fluid spreading through my arm, throughout my body. Larger parts of me became cold and distant.

I might have blacked out for a while, because the lamp above me wasn't as bright, and the doctor was on the wrong side. The orderly had disappeared, "Darling, I am going to ask you some questions, okay, sweetie? Alright, good, nice. Let's begin."

"Do you remember your name, sweetheart?" The doctor asked.

"M-m… M…" My mouth trembled. Memories trickled out of my mind, but even that little stream was disappearing. I tried playing around with my lips, with different names silently, but none of them felt familiar, "M-Mandy? Was it Cindy? I… Was it… Mindy? I… I can't remember. Doctor, I can't remember my name! I can't remember!" I cried when I realised I didn't even know my name. I even had trouble remembering the doctor's name. The doctor didn't seem to like my answers. He called someone, and then the orderly came again. There was a familiar glint. It was another needle. I could feel my own eyes lighting up. My mouth moved, but I couldn't find the energy to object, or cry, or scream, or swear no matter how much I wanted to. I could only lie strapped on the chair, terrified as the needle dug deep into me again.

When the doctor asked me my name after that, I couldn't even begin to guess. I didn't even know who he was anymore, I didn't even know why I was strapped down to a chair. I passed out after thinking of no answers in particular.

And I woke up again, this time in my room, with no straps around my arms and legs. I looked at the alarm clock by my bed. 4 o'clock. I had fallen asleep without realising it, in my jeans and shirt. Sitting up, I saw that there was something different in my room. It was no longer a mess. Someone else was in my room while I was asleep, cleaning up. It couldn't be Dave, I knew. He would be too traumatised to go near me, not to mention, I had an unpleasant sensation in the gut that he hated me for what I did. It had to be dad. Daddy… Dave's dad… I couldn't feel the same way towards him anymore, not after everything, not after knowing who my real Daddy was and where in the world – or out of this world – he was. Not after what Dave told me – Dave's dad was a liar just as much, all because he wanted a daughter for himself, for his son. A pang of regret – _was this what I wanted?_

There was nothing else I could do. I didn't feel like going back to sleep, not after the nightmare. I could remember enough to be scared of it – Me, Mindy Macready, Hit-Girl, bane of crime, afraid! Of a nightmare! I sat just outside Dave's door instead. I wanted to just forget everything, to go inside and lie down beside him as if nothing had ever happened, but I knew it was impossible. _Dave hates me_ – it wasn't a nice feeling I had. I could hear music from inside, from Dave's television. One of Lady GaGa's older music videos. Dave might still be awake, but he could have fallen asleep, like how I did. I sat outside his door, leaning against the railing separating me from a fall down to the first floor, the only source of light and warmth was the cold, bluish light from underneath Dave's door. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even decide between leaving him or entering his room. My younger self would have shaken her head in shame and disappointment. I wasn't the same Mindy Macready anymore, the one who had a solution to every problem. I'd changed.

_Hmm, yea, yea…_ Another song was playing. It sounded like something older than Lady GaGa.

**Meanwhile…**

_Baby, please try to forgive me_

_Stay here, don't put out the glow_

_Hold me now, don't bother_

_If every minute it makes me weaker_

_You can save me from the man that I've become, oh yea_

The 2000s hour again. Backstreet Boys, a band I could barely remember. Barely registered with me. I was falling asleep… finally. Beautiful… beautiful nothingness, here I come…

_Lookin' back on the things I've done_

_I was tryin' to be someone_

_I played my part_

_Kept you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

Nothingness couldn't come any slower. Kept… thinking about… Mindy. Should I… have kept her in… the dark?

_Sadness is beautiful, loneliness is tragical_

_So help me, I can't win this war, oh no_

_Touch me now, don't bother_

_If every second it makes me weaker_

_You can save me from the man I've become_

Tried to be someone to her… Became something else… in her eyes now… Or have I? Mindy…

_Lookin' back on the things I've done_

_I was tryin' to be someone_

_I played my part_

_Kept you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

Save me… from the man… I've become… Maybe I shouldn't… have… kept her in the… dark… But I… wanted to protect her… I was her… brother… she was adopted but… Was her brother…

_I'm here with my confession_

_Got nothing to hide no more_

_I don't know where to start_

_But to show you the shape of my heart_

Found everything… out… Mindy did… Got nothing… left to… hide… What do I do, Mindy?

_I'm lookin' back on things I've done_

_I never wanna play the same old part_

_Or keep you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

Should I have… done it? Kept… her in the dark?

_Lookin' back on the things I've done_

_I was tryin' to be someone_

_I played my part_

_Kept you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

Am I… wrong? Mindy…

_Lookin' back on the things I've done_

_I was tryin' to be someone_

_I played my part_

_Kept you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of…_

_Show you the shape of my heart_

Mindy…

**The Next Morning…**

Mindy was cooking breakfast again. I could no longer even trust her with something as simple as this. I couldn't even bear to look at her anymore. She did something different today. Scrambled eggs, bacons and toast, plus her special hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. It looked like she was putting a lot of effort into it. But the hot chocolate reminded me of yesterday, of what happened yesterday. It disgusted me. After what happened yesterday, I would have preferred a cup of arsenic – at least a cup of arsenic would have been a more honest beverage.

"You okay, Dave?" Dad asked, sounding very concerned. He was halfway through his plate, but I hadn't even touch mine at all, and I had no intention whatsoever in letting my lips even brush against the surface of Mindy's hot chocolate. I was looking out a window all the while, away from Mindy. I could imagine it as the funnest thing to do, something I would be doing for a while, "You haven't touched your food." The way Dad said it though, I was worried he might have picked up a bit of our argument back at home. We weren't exactly being very discreet upstairs.

"What?" I was looking out the window so well that I was zoning out. Looking around at Dad, I accidentally caught a glance of Mindy, but looked away as fast as I could. I didn't want to even look at her anymore, that girl I used to call my sister, that little bitch who used herself to torture me, made me wet my own pants, threatened to cut off her little fingers, almost did. The little I saw of Mindy told me that she had barely touched her own food. Her eyes were wide and looking at me, extremely upset and worried – and I was hoping it wasn't wishful thinking that she was. By this point, the more upset she was, the happier I would be. "Oh, nothing. No appetite, I guess. Must be something downright awful I drank yesterday." I took a jab at Mindy, and it felt great. "I knew I shouldn't have drunk it, but I guess I was being stupid. Only dead psychos in black or purple would drink it." From the corner of my eyes, I saw Mindy staring straight at me, her eyes unbelievably tender and broken despite yesterday. It felt good. I smiled at the thought. _Yeah, how about that for a torture, Mindy?_

"You're not referring to hard liquor, are you, Dave?" Dad said gravely, himself starting to look and sound worried. A raised eyebrow on him was relief to me – it meant that he did not understand it the way Mindy would. By now, Dad's misplaced worries were the least of my concerns.

"Oh no, just some new drink that came in store for me." I made sure it was cryptic enough for both Dad and Mindy, but innocent for Dad, and painfully clear for Mindy. I couldn't believe I was this diabolical myself, and it was a guilty pleasure I had no qualms about accepting. There was nothing for me to worry about in enjoying a bit of vengeance – I had no Uncle Ben to lose.

Dad left us alone at the table to prepare for church. He had a new suit that he wanted to try out, made possible by his higher-paying job. We ate in total silence, or rather, Mindy was eating – barely, and I was just waiting for the bus, letting the food Mindy cooked for me get cold untouched. _Yeah, that's right, Dave, let her feel the pain, punish that naughty little girl!_

"Dave…" Mindy finally tried to talk to me. Her voice was agonised, and it was agonising for me to hear it. "Please, I'm really sorry. Won't you let me make it up to you? It took me a few tries and two hours to get it right…" But I gave her the silent treatment. Even better, I took the glass of Mindy's Fucking Amazing Hot Chocolate with Extra Marshmallows and Probably Something Else Extra and poured it down the sink. Her plate of mouth-watering gem of a premium scrambled eggs, bacon and toast was consigned to the trash. I opened the fridge and walked away with a dented apple in hand, leaving her there. I took a glance at her, and I saw her – stunned, struggling to hold back tears, maybe a tinge of anger. I was smiling wide inside.

**Later…**

I didn't want to sit next to Mindy on the pew at first. I was hoping to use Dad as a divider, but even he insisted that we sit next to each other. Mindy wasn't as forceful this time. She didn't try anything, but I didn't like the thought of sitting right next to her, this Mindy who'd changed so much, so fast, that I couldn't even understand my own feelings anymore. It was like getting my soul beamed into an alien body from Planet X.

The pastor droned on and I couldn't concentrate. Everyone was smiling and laughing but me, but then again maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was sitting next to a timebomb that only I knew about. The next order of business – _how do I deal with the Mindy crisis?_ I was strategizing throughout Pastor Harkman's preaching. _Does Dad need to know? Does Doctor Paul need to know? Is another year in the Jameson Psychiatry Institute the only answer?_ I questioned myself just as much. _Is Mindy still family? Is she still my Mindy? Do I love her? Do I hate her?_ When Mindy changed, it felt like I had lost someone, but she was still there. I couldn't find any answers within me, only questions, and they were starting to pile up like homework just before the summer holidays.


	24. Grenade

**The Descent**

**Chapter 23: Grenade**

I went out again tonight. I didn't even tell 'dad' where I was going. Dave could do it for me, I knew he would, if he wanted to hide what's been going on between us. I went back to the white apartment again, back to my headquarters, back… home. Dave could not tell me much about my home. He knew as much as I do. I had to learn about it on my own, to try to remember, because memories were all that I had left, all that remains of Daddy. I'd been remembering things about myself, but I could still feel a huge, gaping hole in my head. The memories of myself were all I had left, and I didn't have a whole lot of it – I wasn't even myself anymore, 'dad' and Dave made sure of that. I didn't even really like the same colour anymore. I was stuck with blue, and purple, pink became second… sometimes, I was always confused. Whenever I put on the Hit-Girl uniform, I realised that it was just as uncomfortable because of the colour. I kept wishing it was blue instead.

When I was in my headquarters again, I went straight into the room with a lot of guns, the… armory? Putting down the same numbers as before, the numbers I remembered without a reason. Doctor Paul made sure that I wasn't myself anymore. I was still shivering at the sight of so many guns, no matter how much I know I shouldn't. When I had Dave all tied up on a chair, completely under my mercy, I forced him to tell me stories of myself, how I fought and how I won. The guns were my friends back then. I could defeat dozens of bad people with them. Now…

An odd desk was in a corner. It was a drawing desk with papers on it. There were papers pasted on the wall above the desk. Pictures, faces of bad-looking men. Strings linked them to each other, held up by pins. Daddy was an artist on the side, I remembered, the little snippet of Daddy came back to me. He had a passion for justice, and he mixed it with his passion for drawing and painting. Coming closer to his artworks, I saw that the colours had faded slightly, and the painted papers were all dusty. I saw a bald man with two 'C' shaped scars on his forehead. _D'Amico. Frank D'Amico. D'Amico refers to a person._

Below him were dozens of other faces. Some were crossed out on the right hand corner with a pencil, more than half of them, but not all of them. Looking around the desk, I saw a bin of pencils, pen and other stationeries. I took the sharpest pencil and drew a cross next to Frank D'Amico. For a moment, I wondered at myself, at what I was doing. It took me some time to realise it, to realise that I was even thinking about it. _Frank D'Amico is dead._ It hit me slow, but eventually it did. I remembered Dave's story. I remembered my dreams. I was surprised when I remembered that it was Dave who killed him, and Dave wasn't lying this time. It was in my dreams, and I know it not because he told me so.

_He killed my Daddy_. I remembered. _Frank D'Amico killed my Daddy_. I sat down behind the desk, where my Daddy used to sit. I could remember who killed my Daddy, but I couldn't remember how. I couldn't remember why, and I couldn't remember when, and my memories were supposed to be all that was left of him. "Why did you even forgive him in the first place, girlie?" A voice came from behind me. I knew who it was before I even saw her. "Are you forgetting something? Dave LIED to you, Mindy, and it wasn't just one fucking time."

"He did it to protect me." I said it with my face pressed against the desk, making eye contact with a pencil sketch of the man who killed my Daddy. I could feel her icy hands on my shoulders. They were colder than usual. She felt so strong, even when I knew I was getting stronger myself, exercising in secret, knowing more things, and not just more ways to kill a man, "He loves me."

"Does he now?" Demoness' face was close to mine, I could feel winter on my cheeks. Her skin brushed mine, her voice closer. She hugged me from behind. I felt violated, but I couldn't do anything as he body was held closer to mine, "Remember all that hard work he threw into the bin?" It was still as clear as a clean blade, Dave pouring my hot chocolate down the sink, pushing everything I cooked with a fork into the bin underneath the sink. My voice was a stray bullet, and it gasped, it winced. Something watery crawled on my cheek. "You should've killed him when I told you to." I could feel her nails digging into me, digging into my sides, "You disobeyed me."

"He was just right there, all tied up!" Her nails dug deep into my sides. They were burning me, burning like hot pokers. I couldn't do anything. She felt too strong. I clenched my fists. The nails went in harder, deeper, "He doesn't love you, Mindy! I do!" She took her time, licking me like an ice cream. I shivered at her nails, and now I shivered at her tongue. "I'm your guardian angel, remember?" She leaned her head on me. She felt heavy, a burden I couldn't take, and she was threatening to overwhelm me. But at least her nails came off my sides, "You were doing fine at first, girlie dear. It was really entertaining to watch you play with him, although if it was up to me, I would've…" I could feel her tugging at my skirt, "played with him more." I could feel her fingers underneath my skirt. "Too bad you stopped right there. It was really creative, though, you using yourself. Couldn't have done it better myself!"

She was going too far. I could feel her fingers too far into my skirt. I pushed her away, and her fingers almost took my underwear with her, but it came only a little off, so I pushed it back up. She was strong, but I remembered that I was Mindy Macready, Hit-Girl. Demoness cackled. I balled up my fists, "It's only a matter of time now, Mindy dear." And even after Demoness was done, she was smiling, smiling wide, as if anticipating a huge birthday cake and a heap of presents reaching the ceiling, filled with all kinds of explosive, or sharp, surprises.

"Time for what?" I tried to control her with my voice, but she didn't even blink her eyes. Demoness straightened her black dress, checked her nails, which had my blood on them, but she didn't seem to care as she didn't wipe them away. Instead, she was sucking on her fingers, drinking my blood.

"You'll see." She didn't exactly answer my question.

I lifted my head in confusion. The last thing I remembered was me standing up, shouting at Demoness, but my head was on the desk all along, and my hands… They were on my sides. I removed them from my sides, and my sides felt like there were hot pokers burning into my skin. I saw my own hands, and there was blood on my fingernails.

I washed my hands, and went back to work doing what I came here to do. I couldn't let anyone or anything stop me from being myself once again. I remembered Safehouse F, and its layout was a little similar to headquarters. The headquarters was a little bigger, but there could only be so many rooms in an apartment. I found Hit-Girl's… my locker in a separate room with cabinets built into the walls. The key took me longer to find. I spent an hour searching for it, in the locker room and outside. I was searching every little cracks and crevices. I remembered things, how to turn a house upside down looking for things, how Daddy worked.

I worked my way towards his bedroom, searching everything along the way. When I switched on the lights there, I couldn't help but to be awed by it. It was nothing grand, nothing rich. Daddy's room was simple, completely functional. He had a double-bed, a wardrobe, a desk, some end tables, and another locker. A bathroom down the way. I was awed by it simply because it was Daddy's room. I remembered. I remembered once when I got scared in a thunderstorm, I ran into his room and jumped into bed with him. I was little back then, because I remember everything was bigger. I was six then.

"Silly child." He comforted me with a smile on his face when I told him that a sniper was shooting at us. As it turns out, it was just the thunder. I was more afraid of snipers than thunderstorms back then. "I chose this apartment because there's no vantage point for snipers to shoot us from. You'll wake up the next day, baby doll." I was six, and I took everything as a game. I smiled at words that adults either took for granted or took very seriously. I was a little afraid sometimes, but the ghosts would vanish at the mere sight of Daddy.

Walking over to his bed, the bed I'd slept in so many times, I remembered, I reached under the bed, found a loose floorboard. Patting around for a finger hole, I found it and lifted the thing up with a grunt. I hesitated to reach into the darkness inside. There was still the Mandy in me I couldn't shake off. I was still the girl who loves blue as much as purple and pink, who was still afraid of little things, who loves shopping, who shakes at the sight of guns and knives.

I plunged my hand in as Mindy Macready, and found something inside to grab. A handle. I tried pulling it out. My hand was stuck. _Gasp._ I pulled at my hand harder. I used the weight of my body. For a minute, I panicked, but I flew back just as quick, and hit my head on the wooden floor below. _White._ But I was conscious, painfully so. I felt the back of my head, but there was no blood. Looking at what I pulled out, I saw that it was Daddy being Daddy. He hid a pistol… a Beretta 92SF (I remembered, and even now it still scares me), under the floor. Before I knew what I was doing with my hand, I pressed the release button on the gun and the magazine slid out. _Full mag._ Putting it aside to stop myself from shaking because of it, I reached into the darkness again, and sure enough, a bunch of keys were inside.

When I opened my locker, I found the same Hit-Girl uniform greeting me, but there were more weapons inside. What looks like two sticks with curved blades on them, with a strap holding them together. They looked like they could be attached together. Two balisong knives, or butterfly knives. A submachinegun… I remembered its name… MP5K. I remembered calling it Mean Police Kitty. Pistols. There were two small purple pistols, the same as the ones in Safehouse F. I finally knew what to call them. They were Sig-Sauer P230s, and Daddy bought them with customised purple grips for me. Then there was a third, bigger pistol. H&K… I forgot… USP Compact, yes. It was all black, and there was a long tube attached to the front and something near its snout. A flashlight. There were those egg-shaped grenades inside, and grenades that weren't egg-shaped. Frag grenades – M67 Hand Grenades. Those that weren't shaped like eggs were smoke and stun grenades. My head hurts at all the numbers, but I could hear Daddy praising me for getting them right.

There were too many weapons in my locker, and I was beginning to tremble, so I closed my locker and went to my room, not the one that 'dad' made for me, but the one in the white apartment, the one my real Daddy made for me. When I opened the door, it was dark. The curtain was drawn. I switched on the light, and I was overwhelmed by pink everywhere. It stung my eyes at first, the colour. I was more used to blue now. I could never decide between blue, purple and pink.

My old room was dusty, even the bed, but it didn't bother me. I jumped into it, creating a tidal wave of dust clouds. Lying down on the pillow, however, I felt something hard underneath, and when I checked what was underneath it, there was another gun, a… Steyr… TMP under the pillow, and another combat knife. I was always ready in the past, and now, I couldn't bear to touch my old friends.

**The Next Day…**

I didn't cook this time. I didn't want to be disappointed by Dave again. When he threw my breakfast away without even touching them, it actually hurts, even more than getting punched in the guts. We ended up eating cereals instead. "Morning, Dave." I tried talking to him, but he wouldn't even return my greetings when I came down to eat with the rest of the family.

"Morning, sweet pea." 'Dad' wished me instead. I couldn't do it anymore, being Dave's dad's girl. I knew who my real Daddy was. I simply flashed him a smile instead, and it didn't feel like the kind I used to give him. Dave's dad became simply another liar. He was never Daddy.

"Dave, I saw the trailer for _Winnie the Pooh_ on TV…" I tried again. Couldn't help but to fix my eyes on him, hoping that he would respond to me. I didn't care even if it was a no, or even if he scolded me, as long as he talked to me, "Do you still want to watch it?"

My eyes met his as he lifted his head from his bowl of cereals to look at me. They looked dead. I couldn't see the same kind of eyes he used to have anymore. It made me feel worse. He didn't answer, but instead returned his eyes to his bowl of cereals, took another bite. "I'll take you to the cinema if you want, Mandy." 'Dad' tried again. My new name ate at me the moment I heard it again. _I am Mindy Macready, damn it! SWEAR._

"On second thought, it looks boring." I said casually as I followed Dave's example, didn't exactly replied to 'dad' at all. Inside, I wasn't sure if _Winnie the Pooh_ was fun or not. I couldn't even decide myself. On one hand I really wanted to watch it with Dave, but on the other I told myself that it was something only babies would watch.

It was even worse at lunchtime. Dave wouldn't even let me sit with him on the same table, with Marty and Todd anymore. "Could you just scamper off? We're talking private stuff here! Go to the little girls' section will you?" I finally got my wish, but everyone in the cafeteria laughed at me. I didn't even have Pete to sit with anymore. He was angry with me, too. 'You've been using me!' He said. He had more friends now, including the ones from the community centre. I had to sit alone in a corner table, getting pelted at with paper balls, peas and food. My hands shook as I thought about hurting people. I had to stop, but I could feel my blood boil. Had it not been sadness cooling me at the same time, I would have done something about the ball throwers and pea shooters.

Couldn't concentrate in class. Too many things had happened, and school became the least of my concerns. Mrs Davies droned on in class, and her words just bounced off of me. I kept thinking about Dave. Surprisingly, it helped pass the time, feeling angry, and upset, and alone. When the bell rung for the last time, I left as fast as I could. Without Dave, without my family, the way it used to be, there was only one thing left for me. Taking the school bus back home, another change since Dave stopped loving me, I endured paper balls again, but I ignored them. I kept reminding myself that I was Mindy, and paper balls were nothing compared to bullets.

Back home, I wanted to leave immediately for Safehouse F on my little blue bicycle. It didn't feel good anymore, being back at home. I wanted to leave immediately, but I couldn't. I would have to wait until the usual time I go to Pete's house, supposedly. I stayed in my room, but I couldn't do that forever. I had to go down for a drink of water in the kitchen, which was when I bumped into 'dad'. "Why are you home so early?" I couldn't call him 'Daddy' anymore. I didn't feel like it. It was a weird feeling. He lied to me, and it made my blood boil, yet I felt a little drawn to him, even if seeing him makes me mad.

"Oh hey there pal!" 'Dad' greeted me in his usual way. At the very least, I like it when he does that. I couldn't think of anything else to like about him, I just couldn't, at least at the moment, "Things were smooth in the office, so I decided to skip back here and why not spend more time with my favourite little girl?" He put his arm around my shoulders. They felt wrong somehow, not the right size, not the right shape, not the right texture. It wasn't Daddy's arm around me.

"I have to go now." It came out of my mouth almost without my control. I wanted to just leave for Safehouse F immediately. I shook his arm off and I didn't even know how I did it.

"Mandy? Where're you going?" 'Dad' sounded worried. I wasn't exactly being very stealthy. He called me Mandy again, and I didn't like it. I kept walking. I didn't know how to tell him everything in my mind, "Mandy?" _The name's Mindy Macready, you fossil!_ I could feel 'dad' grabbing me by the arm before I crossed the kitchen. "Mandy, what's the matter with you? It's nothing to do with that dream of yours, is it?" He made me remember – that dream in which Demoness forced a kiss on me. _Her tongue going into my mouth!_ I yanked my arm out of 'dad's grip, could feel myself losing balance and hitting the dining table, but I regained it leaning against the table.

"You're not my Daddy!" It felt good when I let it out. I could feel the muscles in my face getting their exercise, the freedom in it. Their lies took away my freedom, and I was just taking back what was mine. I tore at the necklace 'dad' gave me and took it off, threw it on the floor. "You never were! Stop lying to me!" It was all a blur. I turned and made for the front door, "Stop bothering me!" For a second, I thought I saw Demoness peeking in from a window, but I didn't have time to care. She was right about 'dad' though, he tried to make me forget about Daddy, wanted to take his place, wanted me for himself!

Somewhere across the living room, Dave somehow managed to get in front of me and blocked my way out. He seemed angry, but I didn't have time to think when he made a move on me, tried to catch me. We made a round around the sofa, but I was faster, and I thought I saw him knock the coffee table with his knee. When he was down, I made for the front door, got on my bicycle and left. I had to change my plans. Dave knew that I know about Safehouse F, so I decided to go to my headquarters instead.

**Meanwhile…**

I'd hit my knee so hard against the coffee table that it was bleeding and swelling up. Unlike like half of my body, my knees weren't immune to pain. I could barely walk, barely get up but I tried anyway. I saw Mindy flying out the door, but I was scrambling in the living room even as she got on her bike. I lost her soon after. I took my own bicycle and made a beeline for Safehouse F – it made sense that she would go there. Where else would she go? Mindy had no other friends except Sal. I overheard Pete pretty much shunning her, which pretty much means that the rest of her friends with Pete was gone. I made sure Marty and Todd won't be speaking to her ever, not that she knew where they lived.

When I left dad in the kitchen, I saw him taking a seat. He looked like he'd just lost mom the previous day, AKA it's bad, extremely bad, as that was the worse he'd sunken, and it looked like he was sinking further in. I didn't want to leave him like that, but I knew there was nothing I could do to help him. I was just an 18-year-old, whoever's heard of an 18-year-old comforting someone on his 50th birthday?

As I pedalled hard towards Safehouse F, I couldn't even see Mindy around any corner ahead of me. She must have been going fast, training in secret like Batman or something. When I got to the apartment F was at, I was sprinting to the door fast that the elevator felt like it was slowing me down. Opening the door, the lock feeling like it was slowing me down by minutes and hours, I swung the door open and went right in, guns pointed at me or otherwise. But it was dark, empty and silent. Switching on the lights, I searched the place, but after like 30 minutes to an hour, there was still no Mindy anywhere. She'd gone elsewhere.

At first, I thought about going out as Kick-Ass immediately, but I knew I couldn't leave dad alone for too long. Already, I was beginning to worry that I might have made a mistake leaving him behind on a wild goose chase. I'd changed; I guess I cared a little more. I guess I wanted to do a little more.

When I got back home, I found dad waiting for me on the sofa. "Could you explain to me what on earth's going on?" He greeted me with the ultimate question. He'd trusted me to care for Mindy when he was out, and I guess he was starting to get disappointed. I sat down on a single-seater flanking him, "I heard you guys arguing on Saturday, you know."

"You knew about that?" Thinking back, I remembered him staying in the kitchen. I didn't think that he would hear us in my room, but then again, I wasn't even thinking at that time. It took me a while to recollect everything that happened – the torture, Mindy hurting herself, me hurting Mindy. In fact, I was a computer running on Windows 95. My brain was lagging behind everything I did. I was shutting down, I didn't really feel like caring, or thinking anymore.

"Yeah, it's a little hard to miss when you were shouting at the top of your lungs, and Mandy wasn't walking like a princess either, Dave." Dad was firm this time. I knew that something was up when he became this way, "I just wanted to let you guys settle it, but this one's big, isn't it, Dave?"

I found myself backed into a corner. I had to lie to him, or tell him nothing about Mindy remembering times. I had to start thinking again, about everything, about what to do with Mindy, and it seemed like I had no more choice but to let it happen. I'd been free for the past month or so, with Dad allowing me to go out as Kick-Ass even when things got a little dangerous. It felt like that was coming to an end too, and it was a something I hadn't felt for a long time.

**Later…**

The sun was soon about to sleep. I had been wandering around in headquarters for far too long, thinking. Dave was no longer the brother I knew, he was always trying to hurt me! _He was never my brother!_ Yet he was. Putting down a few plastic bottles and tin cans I had been eating or drinking out of, I started pacing. I remembered doing this with Daddy before when I was much younger, and I enjoyed the game much more than I could imagine enjoying those handheld games every kid had. After 20 paces, I turned around, and the hard part begins. I drew my P230, and immediately I started seeing things inside, people screaming, begging, crying, blood, organs coming out. I remembered the intestines spewing out of the Big Man I shot in the guts four times. My right hand shook, so I held it with both hands. The standard way – no fun, but it was the only way. Both my hands shook as I heard and saw things.

BAM! Peabuddy, as I called my P230, screamed, but none of the cans I placed on the wrecked car fell. The gunshot did not echo in the junkyard. It was the perfect place to practice as the heaps of trash absorbs the sound. None of the cans fell. I was disappointed at myself. I returned Peabuddy into his holster, and rested for a bit, stretching my fingers, before pulling him out and firing again, this time twice at a bottle and a can. I saw the head of the bottle disappear as it fell. I could feel a grin coming on before I wanted to smile. But it was short-lived. I remembered meeting Dave back when I was with Daddy, and it was the strangest way for friends to meet. I remembered looking at him and seeing a friend, a fellow superhero (Is that what I am?) when I saw him on TV. I remembered meeting him while raiding a drug den, killing everyone and saving him. I wanted him with me now, cheering me as I tried to shoot the cans. It felt more and more unlikely the longer time passed.

My hands felt tired, felt asleep after shaking so much. My mind felt numb when I kept hearing and seeing things in my head the moment I touched the Peabuddy. I tried shooting three shots after another rest. A can died. I couldn't even smile when it did. Taking another 20 paces back, I turned around again. The cans and bottles looked smaller. Pulling out Peabuddy again, I fired the remaining bullets but the gun clicked after two shots. Nothing fell. Only another bottle did after I reloaded the pistol and fired half the magazine. _Frustrating._

My hand shook nervously like a druggie case as I returned Peabuddy back into his holster. Sitting down on a tire, I could almost feel a headache coming on. Each time I tried to do what Hit-Girl does, it gets worse. I didn't want to do it, but I pulled out the packet of cigarettes I took from Mohawk. I remembered how I took more lives. I knew I shouldn't blame myself, but I still do anyway. _They made a move on you, girlie, you had no choice._ Pulling a cigarette out, I wanted to throw it away, but I couldn't do it. _You should enjoy your kills, missy._ My left hand fished out a lighter, and soon I could smell the smoke, nice and smelly at the same time. _Your spoils._ My mouth was salivating, my tongue coming towards the stick. Daddy would kill me, but he was dead, killed by Frank D'Amico. _What have I done to myself?_ I took a puff, and enjoyed it, no matter how much I didn't want to. I was – am Mindy. I was and am Mandy, but I was becoming something else. I could feel the change as I shivered; I could feel the thrill and calm the cigarette was giving me flowing through my entire body.

I didn't go anywhere after training with Peabuddy. I didn't feel like it. So I wandered around headquarters again, worked out a little before going home – I wanted to stay in headquarters, to forget that I used to be Mandy in the Lizewski family to begin with _to begin with? The lies run so deep, dear Mindy!_ But I couldn't do it. I wanted Dave back, and upon opening my locker to put my things back, an idea came to me when I saw everything in the locker. It was a tough choice to make. I stayed in headquarters longer than I wanted to at first. The sun had gone down long ago. The next time I looked at my Spongebob watch, it was nearly 10.

When I got back home, the house was dark. There was no one. _Odd, why would they be out right now?_ It was only when I stepped in that I saw a shape on the couch. I thought it was Demoness. I wanted to ignore her but then the lamp by the couch came on. I couldn't see at first. When I opened my eyes again I saw that it was Dave. "Where've you been?" He asked. He looked sad. His eyes were red. He was home early, and he didn't look or smell like he'd been out.

"I… Dave…" I thought about lying, but then I realised that there was no point to it. He already knew everything, well, most things. I didn't want to lie anymore. Lies hurt me, and I didn't want it to hurt others, "I was out training… shooting at cans." He stood up all of a sudden. I jumped. He came closer. I didn't know what to do, whether to run or talk or hit him or… And he hugged me.

"I'm so sorry, Mindy." He said as I felt his arms around me, his body pressing into mine. I hugged him back. It felt warm, it felt good. I could sink into him all day. I almost cried, wanted to.

"I should be the one who's sorry." I felt the words coming out of my mouth. I saw Demoness leaning on a wall behind Dave. She was no longer in her black dress. She was in some kind of a black-silver uniform that reminded me of my own Hit-Girl uniform.

"I'm sorry… But I have to do this." Dave said, and for the second I had, I wondered at what he meant, and I didn't have to wonder anymore when he took me by the arm and started dragging me towards the kitchen. My arm was hurting, and my whole body was already sore.

"DAVE! What're you doing!?" I couldn't wriggle out of his hands. He was too strong, and I tired myself out at headquarters. He dragged me to the kitchen, I pulled with the weight of my body that I fell to the floor, but he was still dragging me. Demoness leaned at where she was, not moving, smiling at me in her uniform, boots and gloves, "Dave!" He managed to pull me to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a syringe, "DAVE!"

It was only at the last minute that I managed to pull myself free, and I had to kick him hard in the knee – the same one that was swollen and bleeding. He fell down, and I tried to crawl away, but he caught up quickly. Dave had gone insane. "I'm so sorry, Mindy." He cried as he was on top of me. I couldn't move. I could feel him straddling over me, holding me down with his elbows, removing the cap over the syringe's needle. "Dad went out – I don't even know where – because of you."

I remembered my own surprise. Sticking a hand into my pocket, I pulled it out, and I didn't wait to pull the pin out. Dave froze, as if he had seen a frag grenade for the first time. His eyes and mouth were wide open, jaws hanging. He was gasping like it was his last. "Throw it! Throw it out!"

"Let me go! Now!" Just when things were getting good, Dave had to screw it up. _SWEAR._ It made my blood boil, and it wasn't just me struggling. I could feel the weight over me lifted as he crawled away on his butt. I sat up, looking at him crawling away like a pathetic worm. I held the grenade out, nearer to him. It made me feel good.

"Throw it out!" He cried, barely able to pronounce 'throw', as he crawled further away, his back hitting a counter. I got up and walked closer to him. He was covering his face, as if he was getting beaten up.

"It's just the safety pin, stupid!" It felt good, calling him stupid. I turned the grenade sideways, showed him the anatomy of the grenade, "Should I push the lever, Davey darling?" I couldn't hide the happiness I felt when I won. It was like winning in a game. I smiled, but I managed not to laugh.

"Mindy! No! Please! God!" He stuttered as he peeked over an arm. The look of his face reminded me of boys younger than me when they got in trouble at school.

"Now, how about if we sleep in your room tonight? Just like in the old days?" I couldn't wipe the smile away from my face. I could finally get what I want now. I could finally have my Dave back. I had trouble deciding whether to bring the grenade home or not, but the difficulty no longer bothered me. I finally had Dave back now. Dave did not answer immediately though. I didn't like that. I thrust the grenade at him and… "BOOM!" My shaking arm helped with the effect. He jumped and shook. But most importantly, he nodded. I couldn't resist laughing a bit.


	25. Period

**The Descent**

**Chapter 24: Period**

I could feel it, underneath the blanket I was forced to share with Mindy. I could feel the thing sticking out, threatening me. The grenade in Mindy's pocket kept me awake. Somehow, it almost felt like Mindy intentionally keeping me awake by jabbing it at my stomach. "I'm a light sleeper, Davey dear." She'd said in her unusually calm and affectionate way. She knew that it would be hair-raising for me. It was like being Victor Frankenstein when he created his monster and regretted it. Mindy had become a mish-mash of Hit-Girl and some typical 60s kid. "If you try anything, it would be our last night together." She'd said before kissing me in the cheek and then lying down, closing her eyes.

Her head weighed uncomfortably on my shoulder. It felt like incest and rape all of a sudden, with me on the business end, not that I was ever comfortable with her sleeping in the same bed with me. I had to try something. I had to defuse the situation, and get Dr. Paul. She was a danger to everyone, including herself. She was a zombified Superman, and she needed her cure. I couldn't hope for anything better. Not anymore.

Her breathing was surprisingly gentle and light. A few hours in the darkness had already given me my nightvision, and I saw her face – peaceful and serene, with all the trouble in the world gone, just like that. No one would have suspected her of being a little unhinged or having multiple personalities while she's asleep. I remembered her talking to herself when she was interrogating me. I remembered her hurting herself, almost chopping off her own fingers. I had to do it. I tried to move my left arm, but it was trapped underneath Mindy the timebomb. I could bet my life that she did it to make things difficult for me.

With my right hand, I lifted the blanket so I could see the grenade poking out of her pocket. It wasn't even in her pocket. It was sitting naked out in the open, in her hand. Her fingers were still wrapped around it, pressing it down against the mattress, against me. Her head lay uncomfortably on my shoulder. I was even more conscious of it as I was trying to steal the grenade. I went for it, fast and dirty.

I tried to take her hand off the grenade. I expected it to be loose. It turns out her fingers were quite tightly wrapped around the grenade. I was putting all my bets in it. I tried to pry her fingers off. They tightened. My heart leapt. "I told you I'm a light sleeper, Dave." It was Mindy taling, sounding half-asleep but well awake.

"I'm sorry! Please don't! Don't do it!" I couldn't breathe as I whispered my apology. I was back to being helpless, back to square zero. I could hear her giggling tiredly, as if it was all just some light-hearted game. Surprisingly, I didn't hear any safety pins coming off or the lever getting pressed. Instead, she rolled closer to me from her back to her stomach, putting her left arm around my trunk, burying her face into my arm.

"It's okay. Go back to sleep, Dave." It was almost as if Mindy was sleep talking, but I knew for sure she wasn't. I had no idea why she was so forgiving, but I was fucking glad – as long as nothing explodes, I was fucking glad. Her grenade arm was splayed out, and it went out of my reach. Surprisingly, I fell asleep soon after I gave up. I might have fainted instead. I wasn't sure.

When I woke up again, I found myself alone in bed. I was still hoping for yesterday to be a nightmare, so I got off my bed. Went to check on Mindy's room. The alternative – to just stay in bed and hope everything would go away – was becoming about as tempting as a billion dollar budget _Thor_ movie. She wasn't there, and the sound of spatula grating against pan was a tell-tale sign of what was to come.

She cooked me breakfast, the exact same kind as the one I dumped into the bin on Saturday. I took my time brushing my teeth and showering, spending as much time as I could humanly put into the tasks, but I had to go down eventually. When I did, she was there, sure enough, sitting at the table, patiently waiting on me. She was in a blue dress, minus her necklace and watch, but it was all a lie. She was far different inside. The phone on the counter and the urge to dial 911 was tempting, but the grenade I could feel inside Mindy's pocket wasn't. I could feel it even without reaching into her pocket or even seeing it.

Dad was missing. There was a note on the table that Mindy was ignoring. Seeing that I'd noticed it… "Must have drifted in from the neighbours," She said sarcastically, almost like the old her minus the expletives. I went to the table, and was about to sit on the direct opposite side of the table from her when she pulled out a chair positioned right next to her, pulling it out forcefully, the legs of the chair grinding against the floor. I understood, and sat next to her.

I started with the note first. Leaning over to glance at it, I saw 'To: Mandy' written on top of the note. It was folded in half, almost rolled up, and when I took it, a necklace with a heart and cross on the chain fell out. It was Dad's gift to Mindy. Dad was devastated when Mindy 'returned' it to him as she was throwing her fit. What was even worse was he didn't even know the full story behind it all. He blamed himself for it, good old Dad.

"I was never there for her." Dad said yesterday while we were sitting on the couch, after I'd explained everything to him, minus her memories coming back, "Instead, I pushed that responsibility onto you. I thought she'd want that, but…" I could see his wrinkles, more prominent than normal, all the more visible because of Mindy, "She's 11, almost 12. She needed me and… I wasn't there." He looked like he'd been hit over the head, and he just got up and made for the front door that way. "Huh. Did she get her first period yet? I don't even know." He sort of said to himself in his dazed state.

"No, dad, no periods yet." I told him. I saw him turning his head, looking at me over the shoulder, but I couldn't see his face, "Where're you going?"

"Some place to think. I need to think." It was all he said before leaving. I never knew where he went. I still didn't know where he went. Just a month ago, he felt decades younger because of Mindy. He'd ran out of juice now it seemed. There was never such a thing as the fountain of youth, nor perfect father figures. I could only be glad that mine was still intact, not blown up by a certain someone, or I'd be joining the club with Superman and Spiderman.

I opened the note, and sure enough, it was Dad's handwriting, but it wasn't as well written as his previous notes. He was still doing this, using paper, when a message on cellphone would have done the job:

_Dear Mandy,_

_I have to leave for work early today. I'm sorry, sweetie, that I can't be at breakfast with you today. Daddy will make up for it. It's been on my mind ever since._

_I'm sorry I can't be the best Daddy in the world. I'll do better. Give me a chance. Please take back the necklace._

_Signed,_

_Daddy._

"It's actually for you." I slipped the note underneath Mindy's plate, and the necklace next to it. She took some time to regard them, as if she was thinking about something. They actually seemed to mean something to her, despite her attitude saying otherwise. For a moment, I thought she would read the note and put the necklace back on. Instead, she took a page from my book and consigned them to the bin underneath the sink, together with her Saturday special. Yes, it was still there. I couldn't say anything – I wasn't the big brother anymore, the one in charge. She was the one with the grenade.

"I learn from the best." After dispensing her sarcasm, which was becoming a normal thing, Mindy returned to her meal. I couldn't stop looking at her, wishing that she would dig out the treasure Dad had given her back out. After getting a pissed off look from her, I went back to eating my breakfast. Everything felt wrong with Mindy's arrangement. Even with her remembering things, I couldn't believe she was getting a kick out of bossing me and Dad around, especially when things were fine at the start.

"Dad loves you, you know." I said, or more like muttered it quickly, hoping Mindy would miss it instead, after taking a bite out of the toast she prepared. It was good, I had to admit, but if going to church had taught me anything, it's never a good idea to take manna from someone who could kill you with a snap of his fingers.

Mindy gave me that look again, and I stopped eating. I was actually afraid the room might blow up because of what I said. "I'm sorry." I begged for forgiveness once again. I didn't want Mindy to die at 11, and I didn't want to die at 18 years old. There were still so many things to do. With things the way they were, I had nothing at home to go back to, and Miranda took over all the space in my head. Hope became her face, pushing Mindy's away.

"Your dad's a selfish old man, Dave. He lied to me, just like you did." Mindy finally deigned to talk to me, "He lied to me so that he could have a 'perfect' family. It's pitiful, Dave, just like you when you wet your own pants." _How about if I put you on the chair instead, Mindy?_ I looked away, specifically at the breakfast she made again, and went back to eating. _Then why the fuck are you still hanging onto me?_ There were so many things in my head that I couldn't say anymore. "You took care of me, Dave. That's why you're still here. 'Dad'? Not really." Mindy went on, as if she was Professor X. There were so many things wrong with what she said, but I was powerless. I could feel the grenade in her pocket. Already, those 5 words that got Mindy started on Dad was too big a risk.

When it was almost time to board the schoolbus (yes, Mindy wants me to take the school bus with her, or she'd blow up), I waited for Mindy to go up to her room for her bag. Going back to the bin under the sink, I stuck my hand into it, sifting through Mindy's rotting Saturday special, groping inside for the necklace. It'd gone quite deep. I tried to be fast, digging through the trash. I couldn't risk Mindy seeing what I was doing. After finally feeling the chain, I pulled it out, washed the grime and rotten, sticky and slimy food off the necklace. "What're you doing?" Before I even expected her, Mindy was there. I jumped, and off the top of my head, my only idea to conceal the necklace was to drop it into the sink. I was lucky it didn't end up in the pipes.

"I'm… Nothing! Just washing my hands!" I tried my best to lie, but I could tell that I was failing miserably. I spun around – I was always afraid Mindy would do something to me, or detonate the grenade in her pocket.

"You're such a slow-mo, Dave! C'mon! The bus is coming in 5 minutes!" She teased. Surprisingly, Mindy fell for it. She seemed to be in a far better mood than how she was just, like, a minute before. It was almost as if she was becoming a bipolar case, or just generally unstable. It wasn't a nice thought, especially considering the grenade attached to her hand, and her fuse was much shorter than how it used to be.

**After School…**

"Where do you think you're going, Davey dear?" It was Mindy, leaning against a wall outside, just out of my sight. She was just there waiting for me as I was leaving through the front doors of Millard-Fillmore Highschool, just past the metal detectors – here's a thought. How did Mindy smuggle her grenade past the security checkpoint? I couldn't help but to seize up after getting spotted by my adopted sister. It was almost involuntary. It felt like she'd trained me to do that.

Mindy came up to me, unusually calm – I would have thought that catching me sneaking out of school like that would set her off. By sneaking off to Safehouse F, or at least trying to, I was hoping to give her fewer reasons to blow up, both figuratively and literally – the true consequence of my action occurred to me a little too late. Either way, trouble was waiting for me. I couldn't even begin to care about her mental health anymore, because this time the problem's closer to home: My survival, and her life.

"Oh, Mandy… Hi." Her eyes widened and eyebrows sloped with rage when I used her new name, but she calmed down quickly – she must have known that I couldn't call her anything else out in the open. _Shoot , of all the times!_ She'd caught me at the wrong time. Today was an important day – it was special operations day with Justice Forever, "I'm just off for my… Kick-Ass thing." I whispered the last bit softly so that only she could hear it. Already, skipping yesterday was a huge let-down for both myself and the team. At the very least, they understood me, that I had family problems, but I could never forgive myself for skipping even a single day of Justice patrol and training. It was another of the biggest things in my life – not to mention, with Ralph D'Amico in the picture, I'd made it my personal mission to be the teams 'anti-corruption investigator', in addition to being a regular (founding) member. Anything could happen in a single day, and Mindy jeopardised the team for her own benefit. The thought sparked a single candle's worth of pissed-off in me, but I couldn't even muster that out in the face of my adopted sister.

"Really? What kind of 'Kick-Ass thing'?" Mindy pressed on, her _Iron Man's_ iron grip unrelenting once she'd latched on. If I had to explain it to her, I would have to divulge quite a bit of Justice Forever secrets. With Mindy being the way she was, I couldn't trust her with that kind of information. I walked away, hoping that she would get the hint, hoping that she won't blow up, in every sense of the word. Deep down, I was beginning to think she won't pull the ring and push the lever. She wanted me, and now she wanted information about tonight's special operation. "You disappoint me, Davey darling." _Chink!_ – A metallic sound. _Holy shit._ I turned around. Saw her spinning the pin around on her finger like a keyring. A group of four teenagers were congregated near her, talking amongst themselves, well within the blast zone. A few just walked by. I returned to her side. I wanted so much to punch her in the face, insane or not.

"W-I'm raiding a place run by the mob, happy?" I told her in a hushed tone. I couldn't do it, risking her like that, risking my life, risking those four teenagers. Looking at them, I noticed how bright and good looking they were. _No, couldn't, don't Dave, don't_. "Why'd you want to know anyway?" Mindy's eyes lit up. _Why didn't I predict this before?_

"I'm coming along." She said flatly, clearly leaving no room for discussions, "I'm helping, like it or not." _Shit._ I avoided mentioning any 'we' because I knew that she had no idea I was working with a whole army of superheroes, and now it seemed that I would have to tell her.

"Mindy, you can't!" I jumped at her, almost forgetting to whisper. I attracted a few stares, but nothing more than glances. I took her by the arm, lead her further away from the school – I hadn't forgotten about the children and teenagers she was unintentionally (maybe) threatening to blow up.

"Why not?" Mindy said, mostly in her usual little-miss-authoritative way, but there was something else. She sounded like she was getting rejected, like she was insecure. I'd been around Mindy long enough, and I surprised myself when I saw it. I was never that good with people, but with Mindy, I guess it was different. "Are you forgetting something, Dave?" She held out her hand, showing me the grenade safety pin dangling on her index finger. _Holy fucking-_ I forgot all about that. I inched a little away from her. Didn't want accidents to happen, and it almost felt like I nearly bump into her while I was getting her out of the range of the school. I was mentally clawing my eyes out.

"Mindy! You! I-" I was running out of brain juice, but something else occurred to me. The grenade – the pin. Deep down, below all that survival bullshit, below my loyalty to Justice Forever, below my Kick-Ass business, I cared about Mindy in the end. I didn't need brain juice, because all it took was a beating heart, "I care about you, Mindy! You'll get hurt! You're just an 11-year-old-" And I felt the sting of Mindy's palm on my face before I could finish my sentence. It was a hard one. She'd put a lot of strength into it, but it hardly fazed me. For a moment, I noticed a pair of girls staring at us. They walked away, giggling uncontrollably, obviously having the wrong idea, obviously oblivious to the grenade in Mindy's pocket. To them, it was just funny business.

"Did that jog your mind, Davey darling? And I thought I'm the one with memory problems!" She was gritting her teeth. Another key word I'd have to watch out for in Mindy's search engine, "I'm Hit-Girl, remember?" It was time for me to throw in my aces, but they were starting to feel like a useless hand full of numbers.

"That was a year ago!" I couldn't imagine how horrible Mindy would fail if she just went in there, cold turkey. Even with her sanity and memories intact, I would worry for her, and in her present condition, the former was in question, and the latter's not entirely there. But the little assassin's smile said it all, not to mention her body, which no longer looked like it would break like glass if touched – she still looked like a child (she was 11 after all), and frail, but she was stronger. One thing came after the next, and I remembered the news I watched about the mystery killings. _A new breed of superheroes – or supervillains?_ The headlines came back to me. _The throwing knife in the officer's hand. I knew I recognised that throwing knife! _"You've been going out there!"

"Took you long enough to figure that out." Mindy said. Sarcasm was oozing out of her every word. She wasn't even like this yesterday. She was still, and always, changing, and she was changing fast. Her secrets ran deeper than I expected. It brought back from the dead the question: How long had she gone back to being Hit-Girl? I went back to the day she crashed into a wall on her bike. I was starting to doubt it ever happened. It was starting to stink like a cover story. I feel like I was becoming a delusional and paranoid psychopath – I didn't want to go there, so I stopped.

"It's not just about us, Mindy." I explained as I adjusted my spectacles, hid my face, which I know would be transparent and easy to read. Hoped for the best, "I'm working with a whole team of Superheroes. We… call ourselves Justice Forever. Colonel Stars and Stripes' leading us. He's a real badass, and he won't accept child soldiers."

"I'm going, Dave." And that was the end of it, her cards to my aces, which were really just a bunch of small numbers. In the end, I couldn't stop her. Without our bicycles, we had to hail a cab, get to Safehouse F that way.

For the first time since… ever, we suited up together. I took the storeroom where all the guns were while she changed in the kitchen, out in the open. She was changing – just weeks ago, she would have been too shy to even change into something else, afraid that she would look ugly in a new dress, and now, she was changing out in the open, unabashed, unafraid.

It was awkward when we met in our costumes. Hadn't done that in a long time, and the last time we did it, she was already too far gone to notice that the 'supervillain' she was trying to catch was herself. I couldn't look at Hit-Girl in the same light anymore. Somewhere deep inside those eyes behind the figure-8 mask was Mandy, that vulnerable, feminine, sweet little girl… Somehow, Mindy seemed out of place in her purple costume, even if she looked exactly the same in it. Then I noticed the guns she was bringing along. A pair of pistols. She looked like she was considering bringing something bigger along. She no longer had a single grenade. She had a full bandoleer of them.

"Mindy! We're not killing anyone! You look like you're ready to go to the Middle-East or… something!" I exclaimed at the sight of her loaded down for world war three. She didn't reply, at least not immediately. Turning her eyes towards the storeroom, she actually considered bringing even more guns, but must have decided against it.

"Don't worry, Davey darling." She spoke to me as if I was a kid, actively trying to reverse our roles. It was frustrating to be talked down to this way – was she trying to punish me for treating her like a kid (that she was) all those other days? "Don't worry about my guns. They're my last resort. I can't shoot anymore." I couldn't bring myself to believe her. None of her targets came out alive, as far as I remember, from those alleys.

**Later…**

We went out looking like strangers who'd never met. Mindy trailed behind me, in a bad ass trenchcoat. She didn't need to say it, but we had an understanding between us – if I was leading her into a trap, she blows up. I was a little less intimidated this time, because there was no trap to lead her to.

Colonel Stars and Stripes wanted us assembled before dinner to catch the crooks off-guard. It took us almost an hour to get there, but we were early. Mindy had a different idea. She insisted on being the early bird, and she wasn't exactly a team player. When I was climbing a ladder up an apartment building's rooftop, she didn't follow me. She was walking away instead, "Mindy! What on Earth are you doing?" She ignored me, and disappeared around a bend into an alley.

…

I knew the place. I was remembering more and more things that were way out there. I remembered _CC_ at first. Then Cosimo Casillo. I knew the name from Daddy's desk. Dave and his friends were going to raid his place. After climbing up Casillo's apartment building to my insertion point on the roof, I pulled out my cellphone and dialled Dave's number. We were in plain sight of one another, so he knew what I was doing. I could see him, so small and far away, pick up his phone. "Mindy? What are you-?" I could hear his voice coming through the Bluetooth headset I hooked on my right ear.

_We gotta get over it, on top of it and then into it, right in the middle of it_ – I could hear Daddy. "I'm going in from the top." I interrupted him. Details were coming back to me, fast. I was picking up where I left off a year ago. I was remembering weird things – people placement, layout, the numbers. I was getting butterflies in my stomach from it. It didn't feel good. I could feel myself shaking no matter how much I didn't want to, "I know where some of the guards are. I'll tag them and make it easier for you and your team." It was the only way. I could tell that Dave wasn't lying about his leader. He was too confident, and the name was too creative to be made up with his pants down. "Colonel Stars and Stripes won't have to worry about child soldiers this way."

"Oh… Yeah, thanks but…" Dave said, reluctant to show his appreciation. _When this is over, he'll thank me better. I'll make him!_ Yet, the more I thought about how things had become between us, the more I wanted the past back. When we shared a bed – his bed – yesterday, it didn't feel the same. I didn't feel anything when he ate my breakfast, not like when he loved my first batch of crappy pancake I made. "… Mindy? Mindy, you okay?" Dave's voice continued. I hadn't been listening. I must have zoned out. After telling him that I was fine, he continued, "I… uh… I don't think you should be doing this. I mean, c'mon, you've been out of it for a while, you ought to, like, pace yourself and-" I hung up the phone. I hate it when he does that, treating me like a baby. But I feel warm inside when I heard him saying all that.

I hid behind an air duct opening sticking out from the rooftop. It was like hide and seek. I had to make sure that no one – superhero or bad guy, could notice I was here. Taking a peek at Dave once every few minutes to monitor what was going on, I planned my moves in my head and waited.


	26. Shot

**The Descent**

**Chapter 25: Shot**

Smoke rose above me, the soothing, sweet smoke. Coming out of my mouth and nose, in my lungs. I took another suck at the cigarette. _Better than lollipops. No it's not. Yes, it is. No. Daddy would be furious if he saw me like this._ The thought of Daddy made me tender. I could feel it coming on, the tears, and they did. I was Hit-Girl, and I was hiding behind a duct opening, knees up to my chest, and I was crying into my arm. And of course, the tears were bouncing off my tights rather than getting absorbed. I tried to stop, but I couldn't. I couldn't stop sucking at the cigarette, and I could stop tearing up. _I need it, I need my smoke. Daddy would be angry but he would understand right? Right?_ It was hard, but I finally stopped myself from crying. _You're Hit-Girl, not some needy little baby looking for a hand-out!_ I stopped smoking soon after, but only because my cigarette ran out.

I was itching for another, but I had to watch Dave first. When I poked my head out, he was gone. The last time I checked was before my smoke. _Mindy, you stupid!_ Making a run for the edge of the rooftop, I peeked over the edge of the building. A group of superheroes, in all kinds of costume. There was a huge man in army uniform. A girl dressed like some of the girls at my school when they're out milling around, except worst. A man who looks like… Spiderman, the word came to me, although I had no idea who Spiderman was. Two in matching blue jackets and masks, who looked like twins. A man in tight red and white leather. Colors were dancing at the entrance.

I wanted to take the stairs at first, but another idea came to me. _Hey asshole (SWEAR), can't use the front door now._ The Fire Escape. The layout in my head – I could remember it would take me down to where some of the guards were. It might even be Daddy's original plan, so I took the fire escape down.

**Meanwhile…**

"You guys ready, team?" Colonel Stars and Stripes said as he regarded us for a second. There were 12 of us at the back entrance. The newest members were missing. I was worried about that. I was always worried about backstabbers and betrayals.

"Wait, wait, where's Ronin and the rest?" I asked, and as I did, I took a look around. Half the faces I saw were masked – All-Seeing Eye, Moonbird, Hacksaw, Insectman (with his new fly mask). The other half were petrified – Miranda Swedlow (I could never get enough of that name), Marty or Battleguy, The Enforcer, Remembering Tommy, The White Atom (as I liked to call Doctor Gravity). I couldn't blame them either. We were up against Chinese gangsters on the fringe at Chinatown, and we were up against street gangsters, but they couldn't be compared to what came next. I could feel myself shaking in my boots almost as much. It'd been a long time since I last came up against anyone to do with the D'Amico crime family.

"They're taking the front entrance." The Colonel explained, giving me a pat on the back, a strong one that would have hurt if I wasn't wearing my vest, "Ronin's taking them in." It meant that Todd was with them too. On Monday, we roped in Todd. It seemed a shame not to get him involved when the two of us were soaking in on the glory. As time went on, he became more and more estranged from us. It was the only way I knew that could bring him back into the loop again. He ordered his costume and got it quickly, and when he put it on for the first time in my room, I knew the reason why. He'd straight up bought it off a cheap store, a wet suit looking almost like mine, except with the colours inverted, largely a gay yellow shade with fat, thick lines of green running in the same direction as the yellow lines on my costume. He'd even christened himself 'Ass-kicker', after a few other tries with similar results. He was derivative, and Marty thought he was an 'Ass-licker', but I decided to let him go on that, before he came storming out of my room or something. I didn't feel like getting a _Mojo Jojo_ on my back – I had plenty of enemies to keep me busy until retirement at 65.

"Urm… Question? Did you say there were 'around' eight of them?" It was Marty's turn. I felt like screaming at him to shut up at first, but before I opened my mouth (thankfully), I began suspecting what he brought up. 'Around 8' was an odd way to phrase things. Colonel Stars and Stripes was a step up the back entrance. He stopped when he heard the question. Rested a leg on the top step, leaning on it, as if thinking about what Marty said. What was there to think about?

"Around eight. You got that right, boy scout." He finally said as he regarded the door before him like an archenemy. Eisenhower sat by the entrance, as if anticipating her master's order, "There's only so much I could do. My friends in blue don't know squat 'bout this place. I was on stake out, and I saw eight men. I didn't go in like the last time. Too risky." The air felt heavier after that, "We'll do fine. There's 19 of us now." _20, including Hit-Girl. _In that light, we felt stronger, sure to outnumber Cosimo's men.

"Are we sneaking in this time around, Colonel?" It was the same question as last time. I was still hoping for a yes. Our last tactic weren't exactly the smartest – I was surprised no one was shot. Well, the Colonel himself nearly was. This time around, it definitely wasn't the smartest thing to do. Our last meeting with D'Amico's men would have likely caught the kingpin's attention, and everyone else under him.

"Or are you knocking again?" Miranda chipped in. Our eyes met for a second. Good old fashioned reverse psychology. Miranda's light blue-silvery eyes were beautiful, filled with hope for me to drink in. They reminded me of Mindy, well, what's been going on with Mindy, and how Miranda's the only girl left I could turn to.

"I've got a little something else." The Colonel said, turning to us as he fiddled around with something in his pocket. After a bit, he finally pulled them out. Lockpicking tools, a pick and tension wrench. He seemed too confident to be affected by Nightbitch's reverse psychology. It wasn't needed. The Colonel had plans. "My old buddies. Used to do it when I was a teenager, way into my 20s, and sometimes after that." Admittedly, it was uncharacteristic of the Colonel, having converted to the Born Again movement and repented, and stuff like that. "They must be expecting us. We should walk in and have a chat with them. Saves everyone the trouble."

**Back Up…**

It was harder than I thought, going down the fire escape. The metal step I took groaned as I put my weight on it. I needed to be quiet. I couldn't rush down like I wanted. _Hide and Seek, Mindy, don't get caught or you're it._ I went through my plans, rehearsing them, and I remembered more. I remembered singing Christmas carols with Daddy for several months in and around Christmas day, especially when I was very young. We didn't have any friends, and we celebrated Christmas only between ourselves. The Christmas carols were part of my training. They helped me remember things, and while I sang them on the run, they helped me with my breathing and stamina. I remembered singing Christmas carols even when I was fishing with Daddy. It helped calm me down – I was younger and scared back then – and the guineas we took down were afraid of our Christmas carols, mine especially, for some reason. Daddy might have composed his own versions in his free time, but I couldn't remember the lyrics anymore.

4th floor – I was taking longer than I expected. 3rd floor - I rehearsed my plan in my head again. 2nd floor – I pulled a grenade out. _Hug the shadows, babydoll, that's what we do with friends._ I got down, as low as possible. The sun was setting, and the fire escape was dark. I kept to the darkest places, away from the sun-lit walls, and peeked into the next window. They were still there. Nothing had changed even after so long. Four bad guys in an apartment room. Lots of guns. A door inside opened, and one of them left. My hands trembled. I held my grenade tighter, hoping that the trembling would go away, but they wouldn't leave me alone. Whiteness in my head. Gunshots. Blood. Flies crawling out of open, giant wounds. Maggots. Blood spewing out. Light-headed. Pain, pain all over me. Felt myself getting cut up by my own knife. I hid and squeezed my eyes shut. Tried shutting them out. Couldn't.

**Below…**

It didn't take very long for Colonel Stars and Stripes to jack the backdoor. Hacksaw and I joined the Colonel in rushing in first to cover for the rest who lagged just slightly behind us. Insectman was in constant communication with Bravo Party, and they were called in to rush the outpost with us.

We went in quick, leaving no time at all for them to react. One of the gangsters, a guy in leather jacket, was on the way out, probably to order dinner. He froze at the sight of us, and by the time he reached for a gun in his pocket, the Colonel had already conked him over the head, leaving him behind for someone to cuff him up – All-Seeing Eye was on the job. It was a rather long corridor opening into a room, and when we got through, I saw Ronin and Monk heading the rest of Bravo Party: Sergeant Crescent, Neonstyle Epilepsy, Questioner, Target-Lock and Todd (or Ass-Kicker). They were on the opposite side of the room. The bona-fide samurai had just knocked down a door.

There were eight of them, sure enough, except that the guy in leather jacket made nine. Four of them were huddled together in a game of cards. A huge bruiser-type guy was slump on a chair, hugging his shotgun, asleep, or at least until Ronin decided to announce our welcome. Another guy was on the floor, leaning against a wall, a hat over his face, stirring awake. There was something that looks like an Uzi or Mac-10 on the floor beside him. The last two were chatting beside a bookshelf full of drugs and money, their heads just turned to regard us with wide eyes. I could imagine thought bubbles with expletives all over the place. We'd caught them on the toilet seat.

The Colonel had given us our plan before he opened the backdoor. Spread out and floor them before anyone could fire a single shot. Hacksaw made a rush for the centre, overturning a table the card players were using before delivering a blow right to the face of one of them, and the blade of his hacksaws were replaced by heavy iron rods only recently when the Colonel told him that hacksaws made impractical weapons. As the Colonel was onto the Shotgun Bruiser, immediately rushing to wrestle the big guy's shotgun away, I went straight for the guy with the SMG, who was up on his feet worryingly quick, pulling a slide-thing on his gun.

**Above…**

There was gunshot below, and it woke me up. Poking my head out again, I saw my guards standing up from their beds and chairs, talking, maybe wondering what was going on. I pushed the pain away, the things in my head away, and smashed the window. Heads turning. Pulling the pin on my grenade and squeezing it, I threw it into the room. Screams. I smiled. _I fooled you!_ Hiding behind the wall, white light flashed inside the room.

It was a stun grenade, the kind that didn't look like eggs. I didn't want to kill. I didn't want to be like Demoness. _I'm sorry, Daddy, but I just can't…_ Dave didn't want me to kill. I saw the look on his eyes when he finally figured out that I had been going out as Hit-Girl and killing people. I didn't want to do it. I was forced to. But I felt bad all the same. 'These are low-lives, baby-doll. They don't mind killing, so we should give them what they like.' I could hear Daddy speaking. _I'm sorry, Daddy._ I remembered laughing when he said that. I couldn't do it anymore. Something in my head was stopping me. Dave was stopping me.

**Below…**

Bullets were ripping through floors and walls, I thought I could feel a few cutting into me, but I was imagining things. I was still fine. When SMG Guy pointed his Mac-10 (or Uzi, I still couldn't tell), my instinct took over, and I knocked it away with my batons. I thought we'd gotten away scot-free, until I heard screaming behind me. It was Hacksaw and his low baritone voice. He was shot. _Asshole!_ He tried aiming at me again, but I brought my sticks harder down on his arms, and he dropped his gun. He was clutching his wrist after that, as if his hand would pop off if he didn't. My heart was beating, a boombox on a rap song – I'd just narrowly avoided getting popped.

I could hear more feet storming in. I could hear Ronin screaming in Japanese, his shinai finding a face to smash. Smashing SMG Guy overhead, I brought him down, and rushed to help the others. I saw Colonel Stars and Stripes, still trying to wrestle away the shotgun from Bruiser, at least until the ex-mafia headbutt him right in the mouth, blood splashing. He was winning, and he won when he kneed Bruiser where it hurts the most.

The others were having a tougher time. Nightbitch and Insectman was double-teaming one of the two Bookshelvers, who pulled out a frickin' machete on them, swinging it wildly at them. Watching Machete Bookshelver's back was Baton Bookshelver, holding off The Questioner and Neonstyle Epilepsy. The rest were in the middle. One of the Cardplayers pulled a pistol, but Monk knocked it away with his staff. I jumped in with them, putting my batons to Pistol Cardplayer's back, but I had to pull Hacksaw out after that. It was hard to tell if he was still alive.

Pistol Cardplayer was still up, but Sergeant Crescent was onto him with his rattan club and shield. I saw him jabbing his club into Cardplayer's throat as I was dragging Hacksaw aside. _Ouch._

**Above…**

I couldn't open the window at first, but I found the lock and opened it, hopped in. The bad guys were still screaming about being blinded and covering their eyes or their ears when I pulled a gun out. I was in a living room, so they were close to me. They were huge, unlike cans and bottles. "On the ground now, meanies!" I shouted, but they couldn't even hear me.

"Whoa, what the fuck!?" One of them swore. I didn't know what to do when they didn't even know I was in the room, so I waited, and it took them some time to see me. Immediately, his hands were up.

"I said lie down on the ground, stupid!" I repeated myself. It felt uncomfortable, shouting, and I kept switching my aim between them. All three of them had their hands up as they recovered from my stun grenade. They were still squinting and squeezing their eyes. Both my hands were on my Peabuddy. I tried to control the shaking, but I couldn't. I kept seeing blood, I kept seeing people dying, and I kept wishing that nothing like that would happen. I couldn't even think about it, or stop it. It was like being shown a documentary in class. Then one of them smiled, showing golden teeth. It didn't look good. They were heavily armed. One of them had a shotgun slung around him and resting on his belly, another had a pistol near his armpit, and the third bad guy was near a mean-looking rifle. It was too dark to see what kind of guns they had. There were shadows everywhere.

**Below…**

Hacksaw was still alive. I could see his chest rising and falling, and he was coughing when I pulled him aside. I saw blood, but it was coming mainly from his leg, but I saw him take a bullet in the chest as well. "I'm fine, really – not the first time." He managed to say before pushing me to join the others. Colonel Stars and Stripes on the side knocked Bruiser out with the stock of his new shotgun. He must have gotten bored of guarding him. Bruiser was still moving after that however, but Moonbird was ready on hand with a handcuff, and she gave Bruiser a suckerpunch before locking him up.

Machete Bookshelver was fighting madly like a cornered animal, knocking away both Miranda's pool cue and Insectman's shock batons, and before Insectman could put his guard up again, I saw the machete entering him, cutting across his side, where a kidney was, right across the abs. I thought I saw lots of blood, but with his red uniform, I couldn't tell.

"Coming through!" Marty screamed (Nightbitch dodged aside and Insectman was already on the sidelines) as he launched himself at Machete Bookshelver from the back – I was beginning to wonder where he'd went – bowling into both Machete and Baton, the three of them rolling on the ground. The pounds Marty'd yet to shed helped.

I joined in the middle, which could use a little help. The four Cardplayers in the middle were stubborn. One of them threw the card table at Ronin, which managed to floor him and pin him down for a while. Another managed to STEAL Monk's staff – I had no idea how that happened, so Monk was actually backing off. A third had a lethal and heavy-looking table leg to match against Doctor Gravity's Zero-G Device, and they were fencing with their medieval weapons, blocking each other, equaled in skill surprisingly.

The last Cardplayer was quite hardcore, fighting off Todd, Target-Lock and The Enforcer bare-handed. He looked like he knew a bit of martial arts. Todd tried to tackle him valiantly around the waist, but Martial Cardplayer threw him off, flinging him halfway across the room before going back to blocking punches from the other two. I was reminded that we were dealing with D'Amico's men. I pulled a Taser out and shot Monk's gangster with it so he could have his staff back.

**Above…**

"Little girl, why not put down that gun so we could talk?" The bad guy with the pistol near his armpit said, taunting me like a bully. He was the guy with the golden teeth, and he was smiling in a mean way. I pointed Peabuddy at him. They weren't listening to me, but I didn't want to kill them.

"You can't kill all of us." The bad guy with the shotgun on his belly dared me, just like the mean girls at school. I pointed my purple P230 at him.

"I don't think she'll kill any of us." The bad guy with the pistol near his armpit continued the taunt. My gun went back to him. My hands were shaking so badly that I wanted to drop my gun. I didn't want to kill anyone, "Look at that rascal. She doesn't have the balls."

The guy near the rifle leap for it, so I fired at him. I got him, I think. He was tumbling on the ground, swearing and screaming. I saw a shotgun raised at me, so I fired there as well, but the bad guy with the pistol was right. I couldn't kill all of them. The bad guy with the golden teeth raised his weapon fast and fired. I saw the gun blaze. I thought I saw the bullets on their way to entering me, pushing me off my feet. Felt myself hitting the wall and floor, the pain in my chest hollering and tearing at me.

**Below…**

When Marty came charging through, I saw that my team on that end was having an easier time. Nightbitch and gang was picking them off the floor. They were still struggling, so Nightbitch had to knock some sense into Machete Bookshelver with her pool cue before he cuts anyone else, and Insectman shocked him silly for revenge. Baton Bookshelver struggled harder, and managed to sweep Neonstyle off his feet. Light sticks scattered all over the floor. The Questioner, being his usual economic self, stepped on the last Bookshelver's baton, pinning the mobster's fingers and knuckles down on the concrete floor with it, the pain forced him to let go. Rolling the weapon away, The Questioner proceeded to pin his arms down, pulling a handcuff out.

On my side, the Monk with his staff back in his hands swung the weapon into the back of his offender's head, He didn't move after that. It got me worried when that happened (well, as much as I could worry in the middle of a heated battle), but I saw him breathing, so it was fine. Ronin managed to push the table off him, and was back on his feet.

As Doctor Gravity fenced longer with Table Leg Cardplayer, the former managed to duck below the latter's head-high swing and jammed his Zero-G Device right into his guts. It was straightforward from there as Table Leg Cardplayer ran out of steam. As he was bent double, Doctor Gravity aimed a hard one on his back.

I decided to help The Enforcer and Target-Lock, who were actually losing to Martial Cardplayer. Todd was still getting up. I'd tossed one of my batons for a Taser, so I stabbed him with it instead, and activated it. Unsurprisingly, he moved away from it, right into The Enforcer's fist. Target-Lock did the rest by sweeping him off his feet. I helped handcuff him. By the time I looked up, Ronin had taken down Table Throwing Cardplayer with a few swipes of his shinai – he was intimidating, if his victim freaking out before hitting the floor was any proof.

It was over before I knew it. By the end of the fight, there was only the sound of cuffs getting locked, the sound crisp and awesome. Then a third door opened, and a ninth man was behind it, ready with his silver pistol pointed at me. I could only barely register his traditional 60s gangster outfit with a tie and suspenders and fedora before it happened. Target-Lock saw it, and jumped right in front of me. The room blew up with light and noise, and Target-Lock fell on me. I couldn't catch him and brace myself, so I fell down with him, cushioning him. Well, it was the least I could do. From over Target-Lock's head and shoulder, I saw Moonbird disarming the ninth man and giving him a haymaker only a woman her size and skill was capable of.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Target-Lock gasped, rather out of breath from his near-death experience, before I was beginning to suspect a heroic sacrifice, before anyone could graduate from being surprised to shocked. He got off me, standing up, checking himself, "Hoh shi- I guess I bought the right vest!" Colonel Stars and Stripes glared at him for a second, before excusing his profanity due to circumstances.

Then there were the faint gunshots from upstairs. I knew the implications. I made for the third door before even the Colonel could react, "Ronin, Monk, follow Kick-Ass." I was way ahead of them that I could barely hear the leader's orders.

It didn't take very long for me to notice where the gunshot had come from. There was a door hanging ajar on the second floor. I kept my other Taser ready, accompanied by one of my green baton. I couldn't be bothered with taking cover and checking corners. Mindy. _Told her not to do this!_ I was too imaginative for my own good. I imagined her on the ground, a bullethole on her forehead, brain matter just out of sight, covered from view by her body. Not even a tearjerking death scene at the end. I imagined her bleeding to death, the only consolation: our last words to each other before sending her to her father's side.

When I came in, there was a body by the door. His mouth was agape, showing off golden teeth, a pistol in his hand, no longer squeezing the trigger. Deeper into the apartment room were shapes on the ground. The sun was nearly done for the day. I couldn't see. So I flipped the switch, and saw dead bodies. Dead bodies by an open window, curtains flapping, the universal language of retreat. None of them was Mindy's. I finally allowed a breath out. She'd left behind three stiffs. Another was sprawled on the ground, a hand just inches away from an old AK-47. The last one died with a shotgun still held tightly, a look of pure terror locked on his face.

Footsteps behind me. I whirled around, pointing my taser at whoever was trying to backstab me. The samurai armor and monk's robe were flags of friendship I could instantly recognize. I returned my taser back to its holster on my belt. "What happened here?" Ronin asked as he was disarming one of the corpses. _Oops, should have done that just in case._ But I was more worried about Mindy than myself. I was still worried – she could still be hurt. _Or dying. All because of me I should have stopped her from doing this I failed._ Monk was doing the same thing, removing a shotgun from one of the corpses before putting his hands together to pray, though I'm not sure for who.

"I don't know." I lied as I was staring out the window, which was one way to hide the look on my face. _Oh God Mindy! Please be okay… Please don't do this to me!_ "We should go back down and tell the Colonel." Ronin was wisely checking every room in the small apartment, but when I finally turned to him, he was still there – no surprises anywhere "I, er… Why not the two of you go ahead first? I'll catch up in a sec – there's something I have to check." Questions were written all over Ronin and Monk's faces, at least until I put a foot through the window and on the fire escape outside. It was only then that they were content. "I'll be fine on my own." And my phone was vibrating. I had never been more afraid of phones or vibrations before this.

Monk and Ronin went out of sight shortly after, the longest few seconds that ever existed with my phone whining in my pocket again and again, consistently like the footsteps of death incarnate or _Juggernaut_. I picked it up as soon as they were gone. The screen displayed 'Mandy Lizewski'. "Mindy!?" After my initial blowout, I could feel my lips tremble. _Please don't be hurt please don't be hurt please don't be dying Oh God no please…_

"D-dave…" Mindy's voice came through. She sounded weak, and she sounded like she was ready to punch her ticket soon, "I need – I need – Please. It hurts… hurts so bad. Please… I think I… I'm on the roof… the rooftop. I'm so… sorry… I-"

"Mindy, it's fine, it'll be okay." I took my first steps up, quickly.

"Dave, I'm so sorry…" Her apology continued weakly through static, through her breathing.

"Don't talk, shhhh, I'm coming! I'm coming to get you!" I was flying up the fire escape with the phone stuck to my ear, my only connection to her. I needed it, the way I needed my brain or my heart. Just hearing her breathing was good enough.

"I'm so sorry… so sorry, Dave, shouldn't have-" She continued gasping. She sounds winded, as if she'd ran more than a mile, as if breathing had become the hardest thing in the world.

"Mindy, it's fine, don't talk anymore! I'm coming to get you!" I couldn't believe myself, blazing through both my words and the metal stairs like a marathon runner. Nothing mattered but Mindy, and she'd given me wings. Just moments ago, I would have given anything for her to just soften up and forget being Hit-Girl, and now I wanted her to be the invincible Hit-Girl I knew, the one who saved me from a dozen thugs and fire.

3rd floor, 4th floor, 5th, aka the rooftop. It was refreshing to have the sun on my face again, but the feeling didn't last very long. Mindy was lying on the ground, covered by her own cloak, covering her except for her purple-wigged head and booted legs. She wasn't moving. "MINDY!" My yellow boot kicked something on the ground, something metallic. I looked down instinctually. Her pistol, purple grip, smallish, fits her like a glove. I picked it up, hoping that I could return it to her at the end of it. But it wasn't looking good. The pistol was wet with blood, "Mindy!" She wasn't responding as I screamed and ran up to her. My muscles were burning from the fight and the climb, but I didn't care. _No, no, no, please don't be – Fuck you God if she-_

When I was finally with her, I didn't know what to do. I was afraid of even touching her because I didn't want to make anything worse. It was the worst lesson in procrastination yet – I'd wanted to take a course in first aid with Marty, but I'd been putting it off for weeks. "Mindy?" I shook her, but she wasn't moving. Finally, I flipped her around, and saw the look on her face. Pain, utter pain.

"Dave..." She muttered weakly. At least I knew she was alive. She was clutching her chest. It could only mean one thing, "It hurts so bad, I'm scared, I'm so scared Dave please help me it hurts… hurts so…" Her lips barely moved as she whispered weakly. I tried removing her hands, but she was fighting me, as if her life depended on her hands clutching her chest, "Dave, no… Please, it…" She was hysterical, afraid – she was back to square zero.

"Mindy, please trust me. I can't do this if you-" I looked at her in the eyes, those fearful, vulnerable eyes, and saw Mandy, the innocent little girl. She nodded, trembling, removing her hands. I saw bullet holes, three of them. _THREE BULLETHOLES. Yet… _I caught the tag just above her collarbones and unzipped her. I was expecting flesh, and lots of blood, three bullet holes, a mangled chest, Mindy dying. Yet… blankness.

There was something black and hard underneath. A void. Letting a bit of sunlight past me, I saw glints of metal. The bullets. Three of them, flat against the something that was black and hard. Body armor, my addled mind finally found the words. For once, I was allowed hope. I plucked the bullets off. The plate underneath wasn't penetrated. "You're fine, Mindy." When I looked at her, I saw that she was crying, and they weren't tears of relief either, "You're fine, you really are, Mindy! It's okay, it really is…"

Still, I had to check for broken ribs. I'd been reading about gunshot wounds a bit – and even if the bullets did not penetrate, you weren't out of the woods yet, that much I knew. I had to remove Mindy's tights and the Kevlar vest she'd been wearing. She was back to being shy, so I had to carry her to a more private corner to do it.

I had to remove her _Wonder Woman_ underoos to find three huge, ugly bruises covering most of her chest. I couldn't tell if anything was broken. Couldn't rest until I get her through A&E. She was still crying, just like how she used to. "Can you walk?" I asked as I was putting her underoo, then her uniform back on. She shook her head. She couldn't even talk anymore. She howled in pain as I tried to fasten her vest back on. The grip on my wrist tightened. "Alright, bad move, sorry..." I ditched her vest in a duct, where it wouldn't be found.

When I was done dressing her up, I had to leave her. The grip around my wrist tightened again; Mindy refused to let go. Her face was still contorted in pain, her eyes begging me, just begging me. "I have to talk to my team, Mandy." Her new name slipped, but she didn't care – her priority's different, I guess, after getting shot. I planted a kiss on her forehead automatically. I was surprised at myself, but I didn't have time to care, "I'll come back to fetch you, alright?" I could see her mouthing words. I made out 'stay' but I couldn't figure out the rest. "I promise I'll come back." She nodded, still laboring to breathe. Her grip on my wrist slackened, and I left after making sure she was lying down comfortably.


	27. The Whole Package

**The Descent**

**Chapter 26: The Whole Package**

The pillow puffed with a hollow sound as I punched it square in the stomach. It sounded like it was taunting me, just like everyone else. I still couldn't believe what had happened yesterday. I was shot. Three times in the chest. I could still feel them behind my shirt, behind the bandages Dave wrapped around my chest. But that wasn't even the worse part. I thought I was dying, and I was crying like a baby in front of Dave. The worse, worse part? I kept it up all the way to the hospital. Even after Dave told me I was fine. It was extremely painful. I remembered getting shot before. Dave told me so, when Daddy was captured. I couldn't take the pain like last time. There was more to think about, that last time when I was shot, but I didn't want to – Daddy was there, before… it happened.

Dave saw that side of me. I was scared, so scared that I would die. I needed him. Weakness. Something a superhero should never, ever reveal. It would be harder to keep him in line from now on. After Dave returned from talking to his team, he had to take me back to Safehouse F first, to change us back to our civilian cover. I remembered the trip back, and I was crying and whimpering and whining all the way; I couldn't control myself. I punched the pillow harder. He'd found and thrown my trenchcoat over me, so I was disguised again. It didn't help with it. The shame.

"Daddy, I'm scared." I remembered saying. Butterflies in my stomach. We were in a canal after it was clear. We stood at a distance, as if in a Mexican standoff, only I had no gun with me.

"C'mon, Mindy, honey, be a big girl now." Daddy's voice was so soothing. But I couldn't even remember how he sounded like anymore. Gaps in my head. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Is it going to hurt bad?" I looked at the Beretta in his hand. It was terrifying in his hand, but I trusted him to tame it.

"Oh Child…" His smile was soothing. I remembered the face I mistook for God. I hung onto it. "Only for a second, sugar." He said. "A handgun bullet travels at..? More than?" And began lecturing me.

"Seven hundred miles…" I remembered saying. One of the million things Daddy taught me throughout the years. One of the million things I sucked up like juice. One of the millions things I forgot.

"Seven hundred miles per hour." 'Good job' was written all over his face. "So at close range like this, the force is going to take you off your feet for sure, but it's really no more painful than a punch in the chest." He was so gentle, so caring, even when he was teaching me to kill, and to avoid getting killed.

"I hate getting punched in the chest…" … _Getting punched in the chest?_

"You're going to be fine, Babydoll!" He raised his Beretta and fired. I gasped, and didn't have time to finish it when the bullet hit me. I flew backwards as the bullet knocked me down, off my feet, just like yesterday. Unzipping my pink jacket, I plucked a bullet off my vest. It was painful that day, but I didn't cry like I did yesterday. Daddy came up to me. "How's that? Not so bad? Kind of fun, huh? Now you know how it feels. You won't be scared when some junkie asshole pulls a Glock."

"I wouldn't have been scared anyways!" I remembered being tough and fearless because of Daddy. Getting shot at for the first time made me nervous, but that was it. It was nothing more than a test. It was something I could laugh about after that.

"That's my girl." His smile. I hung onto it. I needed it. It was all I could remember of him. "Alright, up you get, c'mon." He pulled me up. "Two more rounds, and then home." …

"Again!?" … _Three bullets, just like yesterday…_

"Uh-huh." He said, business as usual.

"Look, only if we can go to the bowling alley on the way back." …

"The bowling alley?" …

"Yeah. And ice cream after!" …

"Huh." He considered. He stroked his moustache. "Okay. Two more rounds." … "No wincing, no whining… and you got yourself a deal, young lady." His smile. I needed it.

"Yeah! I'm going to get a hot fudge sundae!" …

"Good call, Babydoll!" He raised his pistol again, and fired. _Daddy, please don't go please don't stop smiling-_

My fist landed on the wall, rather than the pillow I'd hung on a hook. It had fallen off. Pain flared up in my fist, reminding me of getting a charley horse. I couldn't help but to cringe at the pain. It was too much. I hugged my hand as if it was cut clean off. The shame. _Daddy would have been disappointed in you, girlie. Frustrating._ A scream escaped me. I couldn't help it. It was all too much. The pain, the shame, the frustration, and Daddy's gone. And Dave saw me crying in uniform, when I wasn't even supposed to wince and whine. Turning around, I kicked the pillow lying limply on the floor. It didn't help with anything. Well, not much.

I was training on my own – I was back in headquarters. Dave was right about one thing. I needed to pace myself. I knew I couldn't fire a gun very well anymore, so I tried self-defence and martial arts instead. I couldn't remember much from before I lost everything. I was still shaking when I thought about hitting someone. The pillow made things easier. I didn't shake as much when I look at it, not as much as when I thought about hitting a person. I thought I couldn't miss, but I'd proven myself wrong again.

The shaking came down hard on me after I kicked the pillow while it was on the floor, so I had to sit down and drink my milkshake. Everything was out of order. My training wasn't going well – it was hard to do it alone. The headquarters wasn't good for training either. I remembered that there were other safehouses, but I couldn't remember where they were. When I crossed my arms – it was cold as Christmas – and to stop myself from trembling, I felt the bandage around my chest again.

The look on the nurses and doctors' face told me everything. I was just a kid to them. They took pity on me. The shame came back when they did. _Fits you so well, girlie._ They talked to me as if I was a child who needs comforting. The worse thing was that they weren't wrong. By the end of the day, after all those check-ups and x-rays, there was nothing but three ugly bruises. I remembered getting bruises when Daddy shot me to get me used to it – yet I laughed them off. I was still holding back tears when the doctor in charge of me gave me a lollipop. And I took it. And I ate it. _Shame._

Taking a sip of my protein milkshake, I swallowed it along with the medicine prescribed to me by the doctor. It felt wrong to depend on the doctor's medicine, but I had to get better. I couldn't stop. I remembered a few more things. Things that were called routines. Daddy invented a few for me, and I'd learnt many of them from the masters Daddy brought me to.

A right and a left, a low kick, high kick – I couldn't kick very high. My hip began hurting when I tried that, and the bruises! The bruises were holding me back. Couldn't even keep my balance. I nearly fell on my butt, and I could almost hear the laughter, people laughing at me. I continued, but the next one was even harder, a high kick, but I had to swing around. I gave up. I couldn't remember much after that anyway. It was different back then. Daddy was there to take my blows. Dummies were another way. I needed help, and I thought about Dave. But I wasn't sure if I could scare him anymore.

**The Next Day…**

"Dave! Dave, wait, can we chat? Please." I called out to him. He was at the sidewalk just out of school. He didn't reply, and he didn't even look at me. "Dave, we need to talk." I repeated as I caught up to him. He was stopping a cab, showing off the freedom he's had since Tuesday. He opened the door to the back, almost as if he was ignoring me. For a scary moment, I thought he would leave me behind, but he turned to me.

"Get in the cab. Metre's running." He wouldn't even say my name, like it was cursed or something. When he looked at me, it was with those indifferent eyes, not like before, when I was hurt. He was mad, or upset, or disappointed. It felt like all three of them. He was giving me something I couldn't get rid of with my grenade. I had time to think about how I controlled him, and it didn't feel good. I couldn't get anything out of him that way. I couldn't get what I used to have back from before.

I did as he said, getting into the cab before him. We didn't talk in the cab. I didn't want the driver to know we were superheroes. Then there's Dave, who was mad, upset and disappointed. I didn't even ask where we were going. It was like last time after the fair, except he was the angry one. I remembered how I acted that time. Another thing to be ashamed of. I couldn't believe how I was like. Was this how growing up was like? Being afraid of your old self?

For half an hour, we sat in silence that way, until we got to some other place in the city with houses like ours. After paying the driver and getting out, he leaned back against a nearby lamp post, just standing there. I was just beside him, doing nothing. Hoping that he would talk to me. "Dave? What are we doing here?"

"What do you want?" Dave asked as he was just staring at a house. I had no idea who lives there. It looks old, like a place where old people lived in.

"I need your help, Dave." I said, looking at where he was staring at. My brother pulled a newspaper out from his bag, and started reading it, or at least I think he was reading it.

"Yeah? With what?" He said absent-mindedly. He was hiding behind the newspaper, but I could see his eyes shifting towards the house once in a while. Then it came to me; he was staking out, just like what I did to him before.

"I need help with training." I said. He wasn't even looking at me. I wanted him to look at me so bad. At the house, someone came out of the door, an Asian guy with moustache and beard on his chin. He wasn't someone I knew. He put a finger over his lips, telling me to shut up. The Asian man walked down the path of his house to the sidewalk, casted a glance at me. I waved at him, and he smiled at me before walking away. It was as if Dave knew how far away he was before trashing his newspaper and following the Asian man. "I'm having trouble training alone. I need your help."

He didn't reply immediately, making me nervous. We walked a distance across the neighbourhood, following Dave's man, and he wasn't talking. An idea came to me, something that could speed things up, "And we could team up, Dave. Like Batman and Robin." I couldn't even figure what I just said after saying it – who's Batman and Robin? Superheroes? But at least it got Dave to look at me, even if it was for a second. I caught his attention.

Dave chuckled before replying. He sounded bitter, like he couldn't trust me and take me seriously because I was a kid. "Nobody wants to be Robin."

"Really? Because I am. I'm saying we should be partners, Dave. Like- like the dynamic duo." He took another glance at me. It was working. "I know you want it, Dave, the way you look at me sometimes..." I teased him a little further. I was never much into negotiating, but spending a month being a normal little girl was its own training, even if it wasn't much. He took another glance at me again. He was melting.

"I'm in the NFL, Mindy, and I have a team now, you know that, right?" He said, tightening up again.

"But it's not enough, is it, Dave? I _know_ the way you've been looking at me, Dave." I tried again, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. I was losing him again, and it wasn't the first time. I hated the feeling. I didn't want to lose him. "Don't you want to go back to the good old times again, Dave? You'll never be alone again. I'll always be there for you." I slipped my hand into his. He seemed surprised, because he looked at me again, with those eyes of his. I tightened my grip, but his was still limp, "I'll always watch your back."

He stopped. This time, he wasn't just taking peeks at me anymore. The way he was looking at me was priceless, with those needy eyes that reminded me of a puppy's I saw downtown, the way he couldn't resist smiling before looking away. "And you'll do anything I say?"

"Anything." I replied. I had him. I couldn't believe it, but I had him. He stuck out a hand. I knew what it meant. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled my grenade out and handed it to him. He tightened his grip and smiled. We continued following the Asian man, but this time holding hands, together. For the first time in a long time, I felt happy, really happy. I'd been doing this all wrong, all along. I smiled, and it felt good.

…

Mindy wanted me to train her. She wanted to be partners. I could have sworn it should be the other way around. But in the end, it didn't matter. We were together again, and it wasn't a one-sided relationship. It was almost just like before, but with her old self creeping back slowly. I wanted to blow her off, but that wouldn't do any good. I couldn't call Dr. Paul and get her back to Jameson Psychiatry Institute – she'd just blow herself up, heck I know I would if I knew I'd spend a year in a funny farm. I couldn't leave her alone either – she'd just get herself hurt, or even killed.

If anything, it was a chance for me to supervise her, the way I was supposed to. It was a chance for me to be her brother again, just with a small twist. Maybe things might even work out this way, I wouldn't know. Dr. Paul could have done a really thorough job, wiping away every single trace of The Demoness out of her. For once, I allowed myself to hope that Mindy could be herself again without relapsing. But should I let her take the risk? It wouldn't be very responsible for me now, would it? On the other hand, it wouldn't be right to take it all away from her, what she had been training for all her life, what her father did for her, died for her so she could continue in that direction. I didn't know what to do. The question hung in my head the way my costume did when I ordered it.

Ronin took a bus. We followed him. I'd long ago figured out where he lived by stalking him. His story was a fishy one – trying to get his brother out of the Chinese triad, and he decided to do it by joining us. It sounded far too convenient, and movie-like. I knew I had to do this, following him around for a bit. I couldn't do it every day – and he wasn't the only suspect I had (and everyone's a suspect) – but it was better than sitting around and cooking in paranoia. Action – what superheroes do, and it also happens to be the genre of most superhero movies and comics.

It was a soul-rending half hour ride, but Mindy was already fulfilling her promise, making sure I was never alone. We couldn't talk about our training or plans in front of everyone, but we had each other, and her grenade was in my pocket, never to be used. When Ronin alighted, we did the same. Followed him to a supermarket, pretending to be shopping like him. We spied on him, noting that he was getting a sewing kit, instant noodles and toilet paper. I couldn't think of any evil use for those. The supermarket was his only pit stop before taking the same bus in the reverse direction.

We didn't follow him. Instead, I was taking Mindy elsewhere. With the time I had following Ronin around, I'd already decided what I must do for Mindy, and it was for the best. Taking a cab, I took her down to Safehouse D, the perfect place for training. It was located in a slightly more luxurious and spacious apartment, a premium safehouse specialising in making superheroes. It was outfitted with a huge carpeted area in the middle for sparring and martial arts practice, pull-up bars, gym equipment, punchbags and a huge store of training equipment that could train an army in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Mindy was in her old jogging attire before I knew it – she'd found them in her room here, dusty but useable. We met in the centre of what was essentially a training hall. I was ready when I shrugged off my jacket. I'd learnt a lot of things with Colonel Stars and Stripes, and one of them was to be prepared in any circumstances, and all it took was attitude.

"Hit me." I ordered Mindy. Immediately, her face changed. Nervousness. Confusion. I could read her easily. She looked like a kid in heaps of trouble.

"But you're my bro-" She tried to explain herself, but I didn't let her. Before she could finish her sentence, I slapped her, hard. It was all part of the plan. I had to do what was good for Mindy. Now, she was looking at me wide-eyed, in disbelief. Better than expected – at least she wasn't crying a bucket.

"Dave, what are you-" She did it again, and I repeated myself, gave her an even harder slap, a harder lesson, just to drive home the point. She was clutching her cheek by this time, close to tears. _Only a little girl._

"Act like a little girl, get slapped like a little girl." I tried to be a little rough. I figured that it would keep her on her toes, let her know that she wasn't her old self, not by a long shot. My adopted sister sort of froze there, hands on her cheek, looking like she was going to break into tears. I almost didn't expect her to lunge at me, flinging her fists at me.

She was fast, but not like how she used to be. I'd seen her in action a few times; back when her father was burning, and then through cameras after that. I'd fought her a few times. She was blindingly quick, the next best thing to _Flash_, and the only thing was, _Flash_ was just a comic book character. She could throw a flurry of moves in the time I took to swing my baton once. She could catch the electrodes of my taser mid-air with her iron fan. It took a few broken bones and internal injuries to slow her down.

Now, I was dodging the first few punches she threw at me easily. She tried to kick me in the knee or the shin, and she caught me, but it didn't even hurt much at all. When I threw an open palm right in her face, she didn't even notice until it hits. My next move, a charge up and knee in the guts, did her in. It took her off her feet, and the next thing I knew, she was hugging her chest in a foetal position. Her bruises from Tuesday.

We went a few more rounds after her first defeat. It became a cycle of failure for her. Step one: Dodge or block Mindy's predictable moves. Step two: Give her a hard one and watch her fall. Step three: Leave her alone on the floor to writhe and cry in pain. Thank you, Colonel Stars and Stripes! His training paid off pretty well! Other than her feeble kick in my shin, she did clock in a punch in my kidney when she finally tried something new. It hurts like hell, and I discovered a rather sizeable bruise later, but I couldn't let her know that. Instead, I decided to kick her when she's down, for her own good: "Amazing work! I think I should call you Miss-Girl instead."

Her reaction? Confusing, to say the least. She ran off the mat and locked herself in the toilet, and when I approached the door, I could hear sniffles. When I called out to her, there was no reply. I tried a second time, and she screamed for me to leave her alone. It took about ten minutes for her to stop sulking and leave the toilet, still sniffling and rubbing her eyes. "I'm sorry." She came up to me and apologised, though I wasn't sure what for. I stood up from her desk, where I was sitting behind, expecting her to want a hug for comfort.

And there it was. She came to me for a hug, and I gave it to her. She needed it. Things were going according to plan, "You know, it's not wrong if you want out of this for good…"

"No, Dave." She said, removing herself from me. Her eyes searched mine as we stood there, looking at each other. It was like playing a game of telepathic chess, "It's fine. I know you're testing me. I'm sorry I sulked." She wiped a straggling tear from her cheek, "I'm ready for another round." It wasn't exactly what I expected or plan to happen. She was throwing my plans into disarray again.

"Erm… Mindy, I'm serious. I'm not testing you, I mean, if you want out…" I tried to be as sincere as it was humanly possible to express, because I was. It was part of the plan.

"Really, Dave, stop testing me! I'm good, I won't quit, ever! We're partners for life!" Mindy began to smile, probably under the impression that I was playing a game with her. Well, in a way, I was but… Even that part of my plan was thrown out of the belt. She was stubborn as hell – if only she'd forgotten how to be stubborn… "Another round?"

"Nah, we've been at it for an hour." I overstated and took the backdoor instead, only there was no backdoor, just a hole I punched in the wall – I'd expected my plan to work, but in the end it was a Goldberg contraption, stopped by Mindy's persistence. It was destined to fail like a supervillain. I would have to try harder to get her to stop being Hit-Girl. For good. "We're just warming up today, Mindy." I was lucky as it was that we made up in the end, after all that Stephen King level madness with the grenade – but I wanted more. I wanted things to go further back to how it was. It was tempting to work with Hit-Girl again, but I couldn't risk it, no, it would be irresponsible…

**Meanwhile…**

If Ralphie calls, it could only mean one thing: Something was up. Not that things were ever down these days. These were tough times for me and my brother-in-arms. Sometimes, I would catch myself day-dreaming about the past, about being on Frank's payroll. Sure, it wasn't pretty then; the business had always been messy – no questions asked, just get it done and mop the floor – but at least I got to make some dough without too much trouble. Then Frank went up like a fireworks show, the biggest firecracker of them all, well, after half a hundred went up first.

It wasn't over even after that. The rest of Frank's family didn't last very long. Angie, Frank's broad, ruled for a few months. The guys hated it, but at least there was someone up there calling the shots, even if Angie herself hated the business. Well, the good news was she ruled only for a few months. The bad news was everyone else died with her. Whoever survived longer than Frank died that day – those who happened to be in the right place at the right time, such as the guys who were making runs, helping with business, called in sick or… there was even one guy who happened to be in the can with a bad case of chilli poisoning. He came up to the penthouse too late only to find everyone but Chris dead.

Chris himself died long before his mother. He did a few of his own gigs before becoming one of Demoness' first victim. I was twice as lucky as the rest. Well, me and a few others. About nine of us. That was everyone when Hit-Girl, Kick-Ass and Demoness were done exterminating us. I was away in Europe taking care of a few loose ends when it happened.

And when it was over, we were left to do our own thing. Ralphie didn't take over immediately. Sal and Sofia Bertollini, along with about three other muscles, gave up on the business, leaving me and three others to run whatever was left when the dust settled. Even when he took over the D'Amico business, only two words came from him since: 'lie low'. So we restarted his business quiet-like, hired just enough muscles and did a few odd jobs here and there. I found it funny that the new boss didn't want things to pick up again, but then again there were those other four families who were still in business, paying tribute to him.

CITY OF NEW YORK. CORRECTION DEPARTMENT. RIKERS ISLAND. HOME OF NEW YORK'S BOLDEST. The words flashed by as I was being driven towards the big house. Home of New York's Boldest was right. Ralphie was in there. Been there for half his life. He ran the family's business when he was very young, and got busted in the late 80s for twenty counts of murder, drug possession and a whole lot of drug possession. He had a life sentence, or a few, on him, but that didn't stop him from poking his nose into Frank's business ever since he started running his cell.

Leaving the SUV driven by a hired hand I brought on board, I approached the maximum security big house. The place was huge. I'd lost count of how many gates and security checkpoints I had to go through before meeting Ralphie – and the looks did not disappoint. Before this, the last time I saw him was a year ago, when I was escorting Angie D'Amico to meet him. This was the third time. He'd hardly changed, unlike the rest of the inmates – hard time was supposed to change people. It was the favours he'd been pulling in to turn it into his palace. He was a natural, and he knew lots of people to make things easy.

There were two guards flanking me. I had no idea how Ralphie arranged for them in the first place. It was my turn to sit on the chair before him. The first time I saw him, it was Frank, and the second, it was Angie. He didn't speak immediately. Instead, he was sizing me up with his eyes, which reminded me of the snake in Eden's for some reason. "You must be the guy who's been patching things up for me. What was it they call you again?" He sounded content and relaxed, despite being in jail. He'd forgotten my name. He had more important ones to remember, I guess, and I could bet exactly which names were on his mind.

"The name's Javier, boss." I replied straight and clean. With Ralphie D'Amico, it was the only way. To talk any other way would be suicide, especially if it goes zig-zag or sideways.

"Right. I've been hearing lots about you, Javier. You're not going soft, are you?" His eyes shifted, inspected every muscle on my face. He was just a few steps short of being Houdini with my mind. With him, a poker face would be useless.

"I'm just doing things the way you want things done, boss." The only way was to be natural and honest, or at least as close to it as possible. It wasn't the first time I had to talk my way out of things, but it was my first with Ralphie, and he was a tough one, "Lying low and avoiding trouble."

"Right. But things are going to change." For now, he was buying it. From what the others said though, Ralphie doesn't buy anything. He tends to window shop. That was how some of them ended up swimming with the fishes with the new concrete slippers he bought them.

"Wait a second, boss, don't they record these things?" I whispered to Ralphie, suddenly aware that I was in the big house. It came to me a little late – the new family's head had that effect, making us forget that he was talking to us in a prison. It was his palace.

"It's fine, the warden's a pal." Ralphie replied, totally at ease, and soon, we were back to business. The jail was just a small inconvenience. I looked back, and saw the big house's chief there, small and pot-bellied, somehow looking smaller than all of us, "listen, I'm moving things up. I'm not going to let those costumed freaks suck up my dough, not when I have some powerful stuff coming in. They've already taken out two of my fronts. That's where you come in, Javier."

"What d'you want me to do, boss? Scare 'em off or something?" I said, and tried to throw in some spare initiative. I knew he'd like that, but the moment it came out of my mouth, I was beginning to regret it. _You're not going soft, are you?_ The funny thing was, I never really changed. I was never really into the whole murder thing in the business. Just that when Ralphie starts noticing potential underbosses like me, he had a certain expectation for them.

"They deserve more than that, don't you think?" I could feel Ralphie tensing up. I eyed the guards flanking me. I didn't trust them. It felt as if one of them might pull a switchblade on me anytime. They belonged to Ralphie's personal guard – completely and utterly loyal, ready to take out the trash, good at it too. It felt like a switch I had no business flipping on, and now it was stuck, "They killed my family, Javier." I didn't feel like arguing. I didn't feel like ending up somewhere at the bottom of a lake, or in pieces down in the sewers. It helped that I understood what he meant. Everything I did was for my wife and children, so they won't have to starve the way I used to with my wife back then. For once, there was some kind of a connection between us.

"I want you to give those wannabes what they want." The Boss said with a smirk on his face. It was never good when he does that. The only thing was which direction he's sending the tidal wave in. "The whole superhero package. You understand what I'm saying?" I couldn't really get what he meant, so I shook my head and said no. There was less risk in saying no this time – it was me trying to do my job rather than being a smart aleck around him.

"I want you to put together a team of elite enforcers. Our own SWAT team to deal with those wannabes. Supervillains, Javier." Ralph said as he straightened his back and put his hands on the table.

"Supervillains?" I knew asking questions would mean asking for trouble, but I had it. I was just doing my job, nothing more, nothing less, and Ralph would know it. He'd always know, and even if he didn't, he'd make sure it didn't bother him no longer, permanent-like. I'd never known Ralph to be much of a comic reader, or someone who likes that kind of stuff, "like in costumes?"

"Yeah, you're getting it. A bit of irony would go a long way." The smirk on Ralph's face came on again. As it turns out, he wasn't much of a comic reader. "Now, for those special three, I'm going to put in a personal touch. I've got a few boys for that. They'll know the details. They'll call you within the day."

I don't know what's worse. That Ralphie wanted three kids dead or that I was helping him with this. Or that these three kids were killers themselves, and it looked like two of them weren't even 12. The business was getting a whole lot stranger these days. For once, I wasn't even sure if I could do it anymore, even if it was for my wife and three kids.


End file.
